Chuck vs The Middle
by flash-faker
Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make.
1. Chapter 1

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 1 - Casey's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck,_ Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

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Nine weeks ago, General Beckman informed Major John Casey that the original plan to eliminate Chuck Bartowski had been reconsidered. The beta version of the Intersect was now functional, and they had experimented with giving agents access to it while in the field. Their success rates were not nearly as high as those of Team Chuck for various reasons, Chuck himself being one of those reasons. In short, Chuck would be allowed to lived; Casey would not have to kill him. When Casey had gotten off the phone with the general, he felt muscles relax in places he hadn't even realized were tense. Relief had overwhelmed him; he leaned back on his couch and wept.

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Casey was shaken. He considered himself to be well-acquainted with the underbelly of human existence. He was a trained assassin; he neither glorified nor sentimentalized death. He'd seen a lot of it. But never in his years with the NSA or as an investigator for the United States Army had he seen anything like what he'd seen tonight.

He and Sarah, with Chuck in tow, had been doing some surveillance on an office building in an industrial park in Bakersfield. A Chuck flash had linked the place to a doctor at one of Ellie's parties, who had once been accused of selling cadavers on the black market. The office building, it turned out, opened into a vast network of rooms which served as the processing plant for a branch of a worldwide smuggling ring of human body parts. People were kidnapped, anesthetized, and their organs removed. What wasn't marketable was ground up and sold to a major retailer of dog food. By the look of things, hundreds of people, maybe thousands had arrived at this place and left as kibble.

After several fruitless hours of surveillance, they decided to enter. At first, it seemed like whoever had been working there had suddenly left. There were several bodies still on the operating tables, cut open, some in pieces. Three of them were children. All of the bodies were freshly killed, however, with a gunshot wound to the head. As soon as they had realized the scope of the operation, they called for reinforcements, but still continued to investigate. They moved slowly from one room to the next. They found several walk-in refrigerators and freezers which served to store human organs and other "inventory". It was Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory on an industrial scale. Chuck kept babbling about finding monsters and zombies every time they opened a new door or turned a corner. What they did find was an ambush.

There had been some gunfire, a few close calls—then some much needed and well-timed back-up. In the excitement, Casey had lost track of both Chuck and Sarah; but when it was all over, he saw them across the room. They were standing and moving around, so he let his attention be directed elsewhere. Casey acted as the go-between for General Beckman, Director Graham, and the various teams assigned to various tasks. Arrests had been made and a thorough investigation and clean-up was underway. It was one in the morning and he had done everything that he could possibly do. He stepped outside and walked towards the NSA-issue Explorer that he'd been driving for the last few months.

Sarah had tried to get his attention an hour or so before—something about Chuck—but he had brushed her off. He had told them to wait in the car; he doubted they would have listened, but he hoped they had. He felt too tired for a game of chase, even of the phone call variety.

When he opened the car door he was met with the smell of blood and vomit. There in the back seat was Sarah and Chuck, his head in her lap and his eyes closed. Her hand was resting on his shoulder and her head was laid back. They appeared to be sleeping. Normally, he would have commented on the intimacy of their position, but he left it alone. At this moment, he was just glad that they were there.

"He better not have puked in my car," Casey said.

Sarah spoke without opening her eyes or lifting her head. "It's mostly on his clothes. The car can be cleaned."

Casey got inside, closed the door, turned the key so that he could open the windows, then turned around in his seat to get a better look at his partner. He had never seen her like this. She looked how he felt. He guessed she'd never been exposed to quite the degree of butchery they'd seen tonight either. And Chuck, he'd done pretty well over the last year. Casey was always telling him to toughen up, but secretly he'd been impressed by Chuck's resilience and buoyant spirit. Now, though, he looked very young and broken with blood-soaked clothes and a green tinge to his skin.

"He's not hurt, is he?" Casey asked.

"No," Sarah answered, "but he's not okay, either. We can't let him go home like this. Maybe I should take him back to my apartment."

"That's not a good idea. He's too vulnerable. You both are."

"I'm sure I can handle myself, Agent Casey."

"I'm sure that you think you can, Agent Walker." Casey took a deep breath. "We'll go back to my place and get cleaned up there."

Sarah didn't say anything; she was obviously not up for an argument. _Good._

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Even speeding, it took over an hour to get back to Chuck and Casey's apartment building.

"Hey, hey, Chuck," Sarah whispered. Chuck was not responding and Casey was not patient.

"I'll get him. Why don't you check the area, make sure none of the other residents—or that idiot, Morgan—are up and about, yeah?"

Sarah looked hard at Casey, but then gently maneuvered herself out from under Chuck and climbed out of the car. "You'd better be careful with him," she said.

Casey nodded and watched her walk off, then he reached into the car and gave Chuck a firm shake, somewhat more gently than usual. "Come on, Chuck, wake up."

"Whuh?" Chuck muttered. "Sarah?"

"Guess again, moron." Casey pulled Chuck into a sitting position and then scooped him into his arms. Chuck didn't protest at all, which was testimony to his state of mind. He even leaned his head into Casey's shoulder.

Sarah walked up beside them. "It's all clear. It's dark at Ellie and Devon's, so I guess they're asleep. We can check the surveillance when we get inside."

They were almost to the door of Casey's apartment when Chuck spoke again. "Casey? Why are you carrying me?"

"Just be quiet, Chuck."

As they walked inside the apartment, Casey told Sarah, "I'm going to get him in the shower, why don't you use the Morgan door and get Chuck a change of clothes? Make sure you don't wake up his sister."

Sarah left, and Casey headed upstairs to the bathroom. Chuck stirred as Casey propped him against the counter and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hey, Casey—" Chuck protested. "I don't need…what are you doing?" He looked down at Casey's hands and his clothes and paled. "Why is there so much blood?" he whispered. "What happened? Why are you…" His voice trailed off and he fainted.

Casey cursed and caught him before his head hit the sink. "Damn it, Chuck," he grumbled as he awkwardly continued the task of taking Chuck's clothes off. He laid Chuck gently on the floor and then stripped off his own clothes, down to his boxer shorts. He turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature, picked Chuck up again, and carried him into the tub. He held him upright under the stream of water and started soaping him down.

Chuck woke again with a start, "Hey, what's…? Hey, I'm naked!"

"Nothing gets by you, Bartowski. Now finish up and get out so I can take my turn."

"Well, turn around," Chuck demanded.

Casey rolled his eyes, but complied. When he heard the shower curtain pull back, he called out, "There are clean towels in the cabinet under the sink. Use the gray one." He heard a muffled reply, then he stripped off his boxers, turned up the water temperature, and started to wash himself. Just as he turned off the water, he heard Chuck squawk, "Hey, what is it with you guys? I'm naked here."

"Well, here are some things to take care of that problem." Sarah replied before closing the door.

Casey chuckled to himself. "Hey, stud, hand me that white towel that's hanging behind you. I'll stay in here while you get dressed so you don't reveal any more state secrets." He reached around the shower curtain to take the towel from Chuck's hands.

"Very funny," Chuck said morosely.

"When you're dressed why don't you go see Sarah," Casey said. "I'll be done in a minute, then it will be her turn."

Chuck mumbled something and walked out. Casey finished drying off, put on a robe, and brushed his teeth. Before walking into the bedroom, he reached into a drawer and pulled out two toothbrushes still in the packaging and placed them next to the sink. As he put on pajamas, he could hear Chuck and Sarah downstairs, or rather, he could hear Sarah. He couldn't tell what she was doing, but she seemed to be uncharacteristically talkative, probably to keep Chuck from thinking.

They had to let him think sometime, and remember, but he hoped they could all get some sleep first. He and Sarah would have to deal with this, act as counselors if necessary. If Beckman and Graham found out that Chuck was breaking down, they might very well take him out of the field, away from friends and family, and into an underground bunker where he'd get great psychiatric care but lose everything else. Casey wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. At some point, since the kill order had been completely rescinded, he'd stopped just protecting the Intersect and started protecting Chuck.

Sarah was sorting clothes to wash in the small laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. Chuck was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up. His head was resting against the wall and his eyes were closed. She looked up and spoke when Casey entered the room. "Do you have anything to wash? I'm soaking his shirt and pants right now."

He tossed a small bundle of clothes into the laundry basket, including his wet boxers, and asked. "Do you know how he got covered in blood?"

"I'm not sure," she said and glanced at Chuck. She continued in a low voice, "I found him in one of the coolers. He was lying in a pile of corpses. And one of your agents was on top of him, shot dead. It might have been her blood."

"I was hiding like you said," Chuck looked up at Sarah, "but one of them, the bad guys, found me and pushed me in there and he was going to kill me but…" Chuck's voice hitched and tears started streaming down his face. "Then that agent showed up and distracted him and she pushed me aside, but then she was shot and I think the other guy was shot and she fell on top of me." Sarah kneeled down next to him and hugged him. "I couldn't breathe," he sobbed and leaned into her embrace. "I don't remember anything else. I can't…"

"Shhh, It's okay, Chuck. You must have fainted. It was probably for the best." Sarah murmured. Her voice also held tears. Casey stood next to the washing machine and watched his partner and their asset cling to each other. This was at least part of what he was hoping to avoid by bringing them here instead of letting them go back to Sarah's apartment. The crying subsided slightly and Casey took this as his cue.

"The shower's available now, Walker."

Sarah briefly tightened her hold on Chuck, then let go completely. By the time she was standing up, her Agent face was back on. She brushed tears from her cheek and spoke, "Well, I'll just go do that, then. Those clothes have probably soaked long enough." She was still looking at Chuck who had buried his face against his knees.

"He'll be fine, Sarah." Casey said, drawing her eyes to his own. "I left a clean towel on the counter for you. I'll finish up in here. Do you have something you can change into?"

"Yes, um, thank you. I borrowed some of Chuck's clothes to sleep in." She nodded abruptly and walked out of the room.

Casey finished sorting the laundry and put some items in the washing machine. After adding a little more detergent, he started the load.

"I guess you think I'm an idiot, fainting and … and crying." Chuck said. When Casey looked down, Chuck was staring at him with red, damp eyes. His expression was a mixture of defiance and desperation. _He needs reassurance,_ Casey thought. _Great. Maybe I shouldn't have run Walker off so soon._

"You are an idiot," Casey heard himself say. He sighed. "But just in general. It's been a rough night for all of us. You'll feel better after you get some sleep." He reached a hand down to Chuck to pull him up. Chuck smiled weakly and took the offer. Casey felt his chest swell with emotions—conflicting emotions—that he had been feeling more and more often, the desire to pull Chuck close to protect him and the desire to forcibly push him away. The latter usually won out, but he knew that pushing Chuck away now would be counterproductive, so he helped Chuck to his feet and clasped his arm to keep him steady before moving them to the foot of the stairs.

"I have a few more things to take care of. I set out some new toothbrushes for you and Sarah, why don't you go brush your teeth and get into bed."

"You're letting me have the bed?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's big enough for the three of us."

"Isn't Sarah still in the bathroom? I can't go in there."

Casey raised his eyebrows and gave Chuck a slight smile. "Maybe you can catch her naked. Turn about is fair play."

Chuck's eyes widened slightly and he headed upstairs. Casey knew that Walker would have locked the door, but thought it was okay to give the kid a little hope.

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Casey checked the surveillance. He chose not to go over whatever was recorded that evening—after all, he'd never get to bed—but he did listen one by one to every bug, leaving the one he had in Ellie's room for last. He heard the even breathing of two people that sounded similar to what he'd heard on other nights. He knew Chuck would be furious about him bugging Ellie's room, but it was necessary for situations like this to determine if anyone was home. He didn't spy on her for any other reason, though, and didn't want to. Regardless of what Chuck thought, he didn't like invading other people's privacy; he only did what the job called for.

"Everything okay?" Sarah asked quietly from the stairs.

"Ellie and Devon are both home and asleep. Do you know what Chuck told Ellie about tonight?"

Sarah moved to sit down in one of the folding chairs near the desk. "I told him to say that he'd be staying with me. Since we had to go to Bakersfield, I didn't know what time we'd be back."

Casey relaxed a little. "Good. Chuck doesn't have to work tomorrow, but we need to make arrangements for at least the next few days so that he can recuperate. One of us should be with him at all times."

"You think a few days is enough? This is the worst he's been through." Her face was grim. "This is the worst I've been through."

He looked hard at her. He knew it took a lot for her to admit that. Of course, that didn't mean he had to admit the same was true for him, even if it was. "More than a few days and our superiors, not to mention his friends and family, are going to get suspicious. If Beckman and Graham think that Chuck can't handle the field work, Walker, they'll take him out of the field and put him into government custody."

"Why do you care, Casey? Isn't that what you've wanted all along, for Chuck to be put away?"

"I thought the Intersect would be safer _not_ running around L.A. getting into trouble." Casey clenched his jaw. "Since they've decided to keep the Intersect active and in the field…"

"What do you mean they've decided?" Sarah interrupted. "What do you mean by active? What were they going to do before? Have you been keeping intel from me?" Sarah's voice rose slightly with each question.

"Quiet," he hissed and jerked his head towards the stairs. He stared at her long and hard. He'd been caught off guard. He was too tired for this conversation; if he hadn't been this tired, they never would have been having it. He never wanted her to know, never wanted Chuck to know.

"You know what I am," he said. His eyes didn't leave hers. He willed her to hear what he didn't want to say.

"You were going to kill him, " she gasped and leaned away.

His voice was barely audible. "It was the plan—when the beta version was up and running—but they found Chuck to be too valuable in the field, his ability to interpret the data is unique. They told me nine weeks ago that the plan had changed. Permanently."

"Nine weeks," Sarah mouthed. Her expression was angry, but then softened. She even smiled slightly. "You've been a lot easier to work with. You've actually been nice a few times." Her smile widened. "Chuck asked me a couple of weeks ago if you were getting laid."

Casey growled in annoyance but a weight lifted from his heart. She didn't hate him. "Don't tell him," he blurted out suddenly.

She reached across the space between them and put a hand on his arm. "I won't."

He couldn't stop himself; now that this much was out in the open, he wanted it all out. "Last week, Beckman gave me a choice: to either be reassigned or to stay here permanently as a team with you and Chuck."

Sarah removed her hand and leaned back. "Graham gave me the same choice. I did wonder—why now? I guess I know the answer to that." She looked pointedly at Casey. "What did you decide?"

He felt exposed and raw and a little bit terrified. He didn't want to be the one to say first. _What was her decision?_ he wondered; he was fairly certain that he knew. "The way I see it," he finally said, "we're all three in this together."

She stood up, went over to his chair and hugged him, actually hugged him. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the comfort of touch, then he gently pushed her away.

When she straightened up, her expression was all business. "He can call Ellie in the morning." She looked at her watch. "In three hours, anyway, and he can tell her we decided to go away for a couple of days, which means I can't be seen either. I haven't taken that many days off at this new job yet, so it shouldn't be a problem. Do you think it's best if we stay here?"

"As long as you stay inside. I know it's not ideal but it will have to do; otherwise, we'd have to move him now which I don't think is a good idea. Besides, we have to keep up surveillance. I can stop by your apartment and pick up some clothes for you, if that's okay?"

She just nodded. "What about you, do you have to work?"

"Tomorrow, or rather this afternoon," he groaned. "I go in from 3:00 to 9:00." His face grew stern. "I imagine I don't have to tell you two to control yourselves."

"No, you don't. I know how to do my job, Agent Casey." _She must be exhausted,_ he thought, as a myriad of emotions showed clearly on her face. Resignation. Determination. Disappointment. Sadness. She looked up the stairs with obvious longing, whether for the bed or its occupant, Casey wasn't sure. "Would it be so bad, John, if we didn't?" she asked softly.

Casey stiffened and fear spiked through him. He didn't know if he could explain it, not even to himself, but he felt strongly that if those two got wrapped up in each other, it would all fall apart. They would fall apart, the mission would fall apart, and maybe one of them, if not all of them, would be killed. He was silent for so long, Sarah started to move towards the stairs.

"The way I see it, Sarah, is we're in this together, all three of us."

She stilled but didn't turn around. After a long moment she finally spoke. "Just so you know, Chuck's in the middle." He was still watching her go up the stairs when she paused again. "Oh," she said, "you might want to put the clothes in the dryer before you come up."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 2 - Chuck's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck,_ Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you kayla101blue, Airam4u, theocaddict05, jagged1, tshdow, Go-Chuck-Go, and ne71 for your comments.

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Chuck paused in front of the bathroom door. _I could just walk in,_ he thought, _Sarah did it to me._ He burned at the memory of Sarah coming into the bathroom while he was still naked and then at the memory of being in the shower with Casey, not to mention all the crying and swooning. _How could either of them ever see me as more than a child or a fool?_ He sighed and raised his hand to knock when the door swung open.

"Chuck! Is everything okay?" Sarah asked. Her hair was damp and her face still flushed from the shower. She was wearing his Millennium Falcon t-shirt and a pair of his boxers.

"Um, uh, yeah, I…" _She's so pretty. I love that shirt. _"Casey said that there were toothbrushes," he finally replied. _Idiot._

"Oh, I wondered if these were for us." Sarah said and stepped back so that Chuck could enter. She picked up the two packages. "Blue or green?" she asked.

Chuck was surprised by the light-hearted question and smiled slightly. "I'll take blue, thank you." He took the package and started opening it. "Does it strike you as strange that Casey would have a couple of extra toothbrushes lying around? It's like he was expecting us."

"Us and a dozen or so other people. There are more in that drawer."

"You looked in the drawers?" Chuck whispered. "Did you look in the cabinets too?"

Sarah laughed. "I'm a spy, Chuck."

As they brushed their teeth, Chuck glanced in the mirror at the two of them. It seemed like such a normal domestic scene: young couple brushing their teeth together. Chuck was sure it must happen all the time—in other people's lives. He wondered how many of those other people were brushing the taste of vomit out of their mouths after visiting a human slaughterhouse with their fake girlfriend and their real neighbor. And how many of those people thought their fake girlfriend looked very attractive spitting toothpaste out of her mouth into their real neighbor's sink…

"Chuck? Are you okay?" Chuck realized he was staring at her reflection which was now staring at him. He nodded, finished brushing his teeth, and followed her out of the bathroom. He figured he'd be hearing that question a lot over the next couple of days. His eyes rested on the bed. The very immense blue bed. It looked like heaven.

"Sleep," he said.

Sarah took his arm and guided him to the bed. He watched in a daze as she took down the covers and helped him in. "Why don't you get in the middle? It will be easier for Casey and me to get in without disturbing you, okay?"

_The middle,_ he thought. It was like being offered a swim in a lake after a long, hot trek across the desert. He hoped it wasn't a mirage. "Okay," he said and moved over to the center of the bed. He felt her adjusting the covers, then he felt her weight next to him. Her voice was in his ear.

"I'm going to talk to Casey for a bit. We'll be up soon. Sleep well, Chuck." He felt the brush of her lips on his forehead before her weight disappeared.

"Night, Sarah," he said or thought he might have said or maybe dreamed.

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He is walking down an aisle at the Stanford Main Library. He is calm and happy. He loves this library, he even loves studying in it. Bryce is sitting at a table, books strewn out in front of him; he looks up as Chuck approaches and smiles, then he gets up and walks briskly through the library after gesturing for Chuck to follow him.

They weave through the aisles and climb stairs and walk down hallways that Chuck knows aren't supposed to be there; Bryce stops at a nondescript door in a nondescript hallway and opens it. He stands aside to let Chuck walk through. "You did this to yourself, Chuck," he says before disappearing. Chuck turns to the room to see Professor Fleming standing by an operating table. "Chuck, please, lie down. I'll be with you in a moment."

Chuck lies down on the cold metal and tries to get comfortable. When he looks up, it is Dr. Zarnow standing over him. "Ah, Patient X," he says. Chuck tries to get off the table, but is restrained, by hands or straps, he can't tell. He starts to struggle, kicking and swinging his fists, fighting. Finally something gives and he falls off the table. When he scrambles to his feet, he is face to face with a smiling Tommy, the Fulcrum leader.

Chuck runs and keeps running. There is no door, no maze of hallways. He is back in the library, running through the stacks; the books are organized neatly on the shelves. Only they are not books, they are boxes. He stops and peers into a box. It is filled with many small objects, oblong and fleshy. Fingers, he realizes. He looks in other boxes. There are more fingers, and toes, and eyeballs, and various parts that he can't distinguish. As he continues up the aisle, he sees that all of the shelves are filled with boxes, and then jars, very large jars. In the jars, floating in liquid, are hearts and brains and whole severed heads.

He hears Ellie calling, "Chuck, Chuck," and he starts running again, desperate to find her. Then he is in another room, or maybe the same room, but there are no shelves, only tables—operating tables. There is a body on each table. He searches among the bodies for Ellie, even though none of these bodies are moving and Ellie's voice keeps calling. He notices one of the bodies has blonde hair and he rushes over. _Sarah?_ The body is cut open, from sternum to pelvis, the skin is peeled back, the ribs exposed. The body cavity is empty. He turns the head to face him and sees that it is not Sarah. It's his mother.

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He couldn't move. His arms were pinned to his sides. He tried to break free. _Where am I?_

"Keep still, Bartowski," a voice growled in his ear.

"Casey?" Chuck opened his eyes and looked into Sarah's concerned face. "Sarah? What are you guys doing?"

"You were thrashing in your sleep. You must have been having a nightmare. Are you okay?" Sarah replied.

Chuck thought back to the dream and then to the night before. The bodies, the agent saving his life and then dying, the blood. He tried to shift his position and realized that strong arms were wrapped around him like a vice. "Casey, I can't breathe very well."

"You kicked me in the shin, you're lucky I don't squeeze the life out of you."

"Casey, let him go. It's not his fault," Sarah admonished.

"I have to sell toasters," Casey grumbled, removed his arms from around Chuck, and rolled away to the other side of the bed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't…" Chuck wasn't sure what he was going to say. He was surprised to realize that he missed the embrace, even if it had been cutting off his circulation. He looked to Sarah. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he said.

"It's okay." She gently brushed the hair away from his eyes. "It's actually good you woke up. It's about 7:30. I need you to call Ellie for our cover."

"What should I tell her?"

"Tell her that we decided to take a little trip. Do either of you know anyone in Santa Barbara?"

"I don't. I'm not sure about Ellie; if she does, it's nobody that she talks about."

"Good. Tell her that we're going there and leaving this morning. We wanted to go to the beach and maybe some wineries. A mini vacation. And tell her that we're really focusing on our time together, so not to call you unless it's an emergency."

"Okay, why?"

"We want to keep you close for a few days, Chuck." Her eyes were sad. "You need to rest and process what happened yesterday, if you can. I know it's not much time, but hopefully…"

"Could you two please take it elsewhere?"

"Come on, Chuck, we'll go downstairs."

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"Bye, Sis, I love you." Chuck hung up the phone, leaned back in Casey's recliner, and sighed. He'd had to take several deep breaths before calling Ellie so that he could sound even remotely like someone who was going on vacation with his beautiful girlfriend, rather than an exhausted, on the edge of hysteria, government asset. Making contact with Ellie after a mission usually helped to calm him down, but this morning her voice reminded him of his nightmare and left him feeling uneasy.

Chuck got up and walked into the kitchen to find Sarah. She wasn't there. He found her in the laundry room putting on the black jeans that she'd had on the night before. Unfortunately, she had just finished buttoning them. _Oh well, at least she'd kept his shirt on. The Millennium Falcon never had it so good._

"I thought you were still on the phone. I just wanted to put some clothes on."

"Well, just for the record, I'm okay with you walking around all day in my underwear."

"I'll keep that in mind. Did everything go okay with Ellie?"

"Oh, yeah. It was fine. Of course, she's thrilled that we're taking such a serious step in our relationship." Chuck couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Chuck, you know why we can't…"

"It's not just that, not exactly. It's…I hate lying to Ellie, I hate it, not to mention, lying to Morgan and Devon and everyone else. Anyone else, ever. I feel like I have to keep myself distant from them. If I let them too close, I don't know if I can keep it in. I'm afraid to let Ellie hug me for too long, that I might break down…and she'll want to know why, what's wrong, what's happened. And I can't get too close to you or to Casey because it's not allowed or something; because it will compromise you or me or the mission. I don't even know what that means. Or maybe it's like Carina said—you might have to leave or turn around and kill me or send me away." His voice was getting louder and the words were coming out faster and faster. "I can't do this. I have no one. I can't stand it."

Sarah put her arms around him and pulled him close. He was shaking, and crying—again. He couldn't stop; he was out of control—breaking apart, shattering. She was crying as well. He could feel her hot tears against his neck as she quietly chanted, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Chuck didn't know how long they stood there before they heard Casey clear his throat. They pulled reluctantly away from each other. There was no discernible emotion on Casey's face. He just looked at them and said, "Come back to bed, both of you."

"I was going to make some phone calls. Work, and…" Sarah started.

"You can do it later," he said and walked off, obviously expecting them to follow.

Sarah placed a hand on Chuck's arm and said, "He's right, we definitely could use more sleep."

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At that moment, there was no fear or misery. He felt as if he were on a cloud, or perhaps, in a cloud—if clouds were warm and solid and smelled like soap. This cloud also seemed to have arms or, at least, an arm, which was draped across his waist. He took an inventory of body parts, his own and those of clouds, or other people. The thought of people led him to consider the people in his life—like Ellie whom he'd lied to earlier, and Sarah whom he'd sobbed all over for the second time in so many hours, and Casey.…Chuck opened his eyes and realized that his face was pressed against Casey's back and his hand was clutched in the fabric of Casey's pajama top. He could only assume that it was Sarah's arm wrapped around him; although whose legs were entangled with his own was anybody's guess. He lay as still as he could and concentrated on breathing slowly and steadily, so as not to wake either agent. He supposed he should be a little more freaked out that he was intimately entwined with two government trained assassins, but he was way too wrung out and way too comfortable to care.

The face of his mother from his nightmare passed briefly through his mind. He rarely thought of either of his parents, much less dreamed about them. After their mother had left and their father had become even less engaged in their lives, his cozy little existence had shifted into something precarious and strange. He'd felt like he was walking on an expanse of Jell-O™ Brand gelatin dessert—like the world wobbled with every step. He remembered clinging to Ellie, curling his fist into the back of her nightgown as they slept, as if doing so could keep things steady and predictable. Over time, he and Ellie had made a new world—one where they could rely on each other, where hard work and determination could lead to success, and people could generally be taken at their word. Then Bryce Larkin had gotten him kicked out of Stanford and everything again became unrecognizable. This time around, with the help of Morgan and the Buy More, he had constructed a world without ambition or expectations. There was nothing to destroy—or so he had thought.

"Chuck?" Sarah's voice was muffled by his shoulder. "You're thinking too loud. Can't you sleep?"

"Sorry, I woke up a little while ago."

"We know," Casey said and started to turn over onto his back. "You can let go of my shirt now."

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I, uh…"

"Relax, Chuck," Casey said, his voice tired. "Walker, what time is it? The clock's on your side."

She groaned, untangled her arms and legs from around Chuck, and turned over. "It's 12:27," she said, "probably time to get up."

The three of them laid on their backs, not touching, with some distance between each other. Chuck felt the loss keenly, but certainly wasn't going to say anything. They all seemed to be in a fog, trying to get their bearings. After several minutes, Casey finally broke the silence.

"Okay, Walker. After we eat, make whatever arrangements you need to with work. Then, I want you to go with Chuck to pack some clothes and whatever else he needs for a few days. Make sure you leave the room exactly as you found it. We don't know if Ellie's been in since the last time Chuck was there or not."

Sarah sat up so she could look at Casey. "Where are we going?"

"What did you tell Ellie?"

"That we were leaving this morning for Santa Barbara."

"Well, then that's where we're going. I'll call Beckman before heading to the Buy More."

"Won't they wonder why?"

"It's good for the cover." His eyes passed from Sarah to Chuck and back again. "It's good for everyone.…I'll drop you and Chuck off at your apartment on the way to work so you can pack, then you and Chuck can head out in your car. I'll meet you there this evening."

"Where are we staying? Do you know?"

"I have some ideas. I just need to make a few calls."

Chuck passively observed this exchange. He trusted these people, not completely of course, but he trusted them to do their jobs—and their job, as far as he knew, was to protect him. At least, until the time that their job was something else. They rarely lied to him—just omitted a lot of truth. Both agents had saved his life more times than he could count. He'd saved their lives a few times too, but that was never discussed as he had almost always disobeyed their orders to do so. It seemed unlikely that they would be going to Santa Barbara to cause him any harm. Which was good, because a mini vacation sounded nice_. So did food._

"You said 'after we eat', right Casey? What does the NSA feed its top agents, anyway? I'm guessing _Wheaties™, _the Breakfast of Champions. What do you think, Sarah? Muesli?"

"It's a little late for breakfast—but you won't be getting anything, if you don't shut up," Casey replied.

"There's nothing like threats and curses to help one greet the day."

"I haven't even gotten started." Casey muttered before getting out of bed.

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_Refrigerator contents: Yogurt, fruit, energy drinks, high-protein energy bars, orange juice, one head of old, discolored cauliflower, and three to-go containers. Freezer contents: frozen pizza, many frozen dinners, and cheesecake._

"Chuck, what are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, I was just comparing the contents of your refrigerator to Casey's." Chuck looked up. Sarah had changed into something else equally as flattering as the last thing she'd had on.

"And what's the verdict?"

Chuck closed the door to the freezer. "Well, you definitely win on Lean Cuisine™, but I think Casey's got you beat, hands down, on sausage and quiche. Based on sheer volume alone, Casey is the indisputable champion. Do you think he has a bunch of post-mission parties where everybody gorges themselves on burritos and then brushes their teeth? What's with the cauliflower?"

"I think that he likes to be prepared and doesn't like to go shopping very often," Sarah answered as she took a box of tea out of the cabinet by the stove," and things were slow last month, I thought I might try something new."

Chuck nodded. "With cauliflower? You definitely win on adventure."

On their way out the door, she handed him a small suitcase. "Will you take this?"

"Anything a guy can do for his fake girlfriend," he said as he followed her down the hall. "What are we going to do about food? Are we going to eat out the whole time or are we going to stock up on frozen entrees? I'm sure Casey could spare a few."

"I _can_ cook, Chuck, I just usually don't have the time. We're going to stop at the grocery store on the way. Is there anything special you want to eat?"

"I like sandwiches."

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After grocery shopping and getting stuck in traffic on the Ventura Freeway, they were finally moving along at a decent pace towards Santa Barbara. Chuck leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted.…

"Chuck," said a soft voice. A hand squeezed his knee. "We're here."

"Huh? Really?" Chuck opened his eyes. "That was fast."

"You slept the whole way."

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I'm sure you're just as tired…" He yawned, took off his seat belt, and opened the door.

"It's okay. I've been trained to function on very little sleep."

_Sometimes,_ Chuck thought,_ I really get tired of living with superheroes. _He got out of the car and looked around. They were in front of a small house that was built up on piers and seemed to have a substantial deck. He grabbed what he could from the back seat and followed Sarah up the front walk. "This is…Wow…I thought we'd be staying in a hotel."

"Casey thought it was better to be somewhat secluded. We want to minimize your outside influences."

"Why is…why's that, exactly?"

"We want to lessen the chance that you might flash on something."

"I thought you guys liked it when I flashed on stuff," Chuck said as he stepped across the threshold into a spacious, well-lit room that included a kitchen, a dining area, and an open space with many comfortable looking pieces of furniture and an expansive view of the ocean. They set down their suitcases and deposited several bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.

Sarah turned to Chuck. "We do, but this trip is to give you a break. Why don't you find a place to sit down. I'll make us some tea."

"Tea?" A laugh rose in his throat, but he kept it down. He could feel that beneath that one laugh was a wellspring of panic and confusion and he really didn't want to freak out again today, especially in front of Sarah. After the events of the last twenty-four hours, the idea of sipping tea on a deck overlooking the ocean seemed completely absurd. Right now, he was too tired and disoriented to span the distance from the horror of that industrial park to the calm beauty of this place. He could barely stand. "You know what, Sarah? I think I'll pass on tea. I'm going to lie down," he said and wandered off to find a place to collapse. _Tea?_ _What would his handlers come up with next?_

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 3 - Sarah's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck,_ Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you jagged1, tshdow, and Go-Chuck-Go for your comments.

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"Chuck, wait. Let me look around first. I'm sorry, I should have done that already." Sarah could not believe how remiss she was. She was tired, but that was no excuse. "Always secure your location." She couldn't remember what rule number that was in the CIA Handbook, _So Now You're An Agent,_ but it was just a few rules above, "Never get emotionally involved with your asset." She put one hand on her gun and moved slowly through the house: two bedrooms with walk-in closets, one master bath, one half bath, one hallway closet, pantry in the kitchen, clear behind the doors, all windows locked from the inside, only other outside door leads to deck, emergency ladder pulled up and secured, no sign of cars or tracks in the sand below the deck.

She sighed and walked back into the main room. Chuck was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. She was not used to seeing him so subdued. She gently took his arm. "Come on, let's get you lying down."

That statement normally would have elicited some kind of teasing response; instead, Chuck just let her lead him down the hall to the master bedroom. Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed and immediately leaned over towards the pillows.

"Hey, don't you want to take off your shoes?"

"Mmpfff. Hmmpth?"

"Okay, I'll do it for you." Sarah smiled slightly and started unlacing Chuck's shoes. Once they were off, she lifted his legs onto the bed and adjusted his clothing so that it wasn't bunched up any place that might be uncomfortable.

"Are you going to lie down too? I can move over." Chuck slurred.

"No, I do actually want some tea. I'll just be in the other room."

"Weirdo," he responded and rolled onto his side.

She stood over him briefly, watched him drift into sleep, then turned and left the room. _Sweet dreams, Chuck,_ she thought.

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With a cup of tea in hand, she settled onto a chaise lounge from which she could see the door to the deck, the front door, and the large kitchen window. She closed her eyes and let her breath follow the muffled sound of the surf. Her heart ached. It had been very tempting to lie down with Chuck, to hold him close, to soothe and be soothed. She sighed. _Breathe. Clear your head. Don't think._ She concentrated on the warmth of the cup in her hands and the bitter taste of tea in her mouth.

She stayed there for close to twenty minutes before she remembered the groceries hadn't been put away. _You're slipping, Walker._ She grimaced when she realized that her inner voice had just sounded like Casey. She went to the kitchen, put her cup in the sink, and started sorting through the groceries. She'd put everything away except for those things she would need for dinner when she remembered that she was supposed to have called Casey when they arrived. She cursed under her breath and dialed.

"Yeah," Casey answered.

"Hi, we made it."

"It took you long enough."

"Well, we spent a long time grocery shopping." She tensed a little, waiting for another snide comment.

"How's Chuck?" _Okay, not another snide comment._

"Asleep. He slept on the drive as well."

"Good." He paused. "I should be able to leave early. It's been slow. Did you get everything you need?"

"Um, I think so, certainly everything we need for tonight."

"Okay. I should be there in a couple of hours. I might grab something to eat on the way."

"Oh, I'm, uh, making dinner—spaghetti, if you're interested."

"Spaghetti, huh? Yeah, I'm interested."

"We'll be here."

There was another pause. "I'm glad," he said and hung up. She stood stunned for a moment, then set down the phone and started chopping an onion.

Casey must have been more affected by the events of yesterday than he had let on. His behavior last night had surprised her, as had their conversation. She never would have thought that he would choose to remain in Los Angeles with Chuck. When she had first been given the choice by Director Graham to stay or be reassigned, she wasn't sure what she would do. She didn't want to leave Chuck; she cared for him deeply; it was for that reason that she wasn't sure staying would be in Chuck's best interest. But Casey, who often ridiculed her for her "lady feelings," seemed to think that it was—and, she realized, his opinion mattered to her.

Sarah lifted her eyes to see a disheveled Chuck emerging from the hallway. He stopped on the other side of the kitchen counter across from where she was working.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said.

"Hi." He blinked slowly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm making dinner."

"Really?" he said.

"Yes, really. I just finished putting the sauce together. It needs to simmer for a little while. Do you want something to drink? We have many different kinds of soft drinks."

"I know. I watched you pick them out." Chuck shrugged. "Just surprise me."

"Living dangerously, huh?" She said as she pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator.

"I wish I wasn't," he mumbled.

She handed him a bottle and followed him out of the kitchen.

"Let's open up these french doors, let the breeze blow through the house. It should be nice this time of day." She opened the doors and walked out onto the deck. "We can sit out here if you want."

Chuck didn't reply, but followed her outside and collapsed into the closest chair. She sat down next to him.

After several minutes, he spoke quietly. "I guess you guys have seen stuff like that before."

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. "No, Chuck, we haven't. At least, I haven't. Never anything on that scale and nothing so calculated, so gruesome—as a business. All that, just for money… "

"It was horrible."

"It _was_ horrible and that's why we're here. To try and give you—all of us—a little time to recuperate."

Chuck looked at her. His face was grim.

"What difference does it make if I recuperate? What about that agent, the one who…She…I don't want people to die for me. I can't be that important." His eyes were wide with disbelief. "I'm…on vacation, and she's got a bullet in her chest, and all those people are…all those people…"

"Hey, hey…" She reached her hand out to touch him, but he pulled away.

"I don't want… I can't just…" He stood abruptly and walked to the edge of the deck. His back was towards her.

After a while, she got up. "I'll be back," she said. He didn't reply.

She went inside to check on the sauce. She took her time, set up what was needed to cook the pasta, then went back onto the deck. Chuck was still standing at the rail, looking out towards the ocean. She came up beside him and leaned slightly into his side.

"I'm sorry I keep freaking out on you," he said.

"It's okay," she said. "What happened last night was a lot for anyone to take in. Anyone. Not just you. Casey and I have both had a lot of training to deal with shock and trauma. You've just had…you've had…" _Nothing,_ she thought. _You've had nothing to prepare you for these things that have been forced upon you. _When she allowed herself to think about Chuck's situation, it broke her heart. "Don't think that you should be able to handle this. Not on your own." She looked into his eyes. "I know it doesn't seem like it a lot of the time, but you aren't alone in this. You have me and you have Casey."

"But how long will that last? Until your next assignment? Until Bryce comes back to town?"

"We don't…it's not…"

"If Bryce comes back to town, I'll put a bullet in his brain if he gets within a mile of either one of you." They both jumped at the sound of Casey's voice. He walked towards them.

"You're early," Sarah said.

"And sneaky," Chuck said.

"And you'd be dead if I wanted you to be. You're lucky I don't." Casey stopped in front of them and put his arms over his chest.

Sarah couldn't help it, she smiled. "Yes, we are," she said and started to move away. "I've got to put the water on for pasta and the bread in the oven. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes."

"That's more like it," she heard Casey say behind her. She looked back when she got to the doorway. They were both facing the water, but Casey stood a little behind and to the side of Chuck, far enough away so that Chuck wouldn't feel crowded, but close enough to catch him if he fell.

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She'd never realized before how loud chewing could be. It was rare for the three of them to eat together; when they did, it was usually during a planning meeting or part of a Bartowski family dinner. Chuck could usually carry a conversation, at least, until Casey told him to shut up; but Chuck hadn't said more than, "pass me the parmesan."

Sarah didn't mind. She often liked the quiet, although she found it disturbing for Chuck to be so quiet. She watched as he pushed the few remaining strands of spaghetti around on his plate. He had eaten a decent sized helping, but had barely lifted his eyes from his meal. Casey had only uttered a few grunts and groans of appreciation as he finished off two large servings of pasta and half a baguette.

Just as Casey put his napkin down and leaned away from the table, Chuck spoke. "What's different?" he said.

Both she and Casey looked at him. "What?" they said at the same time.

Chuck raised his head and glanced between them. "What's different?" he repeated. At their questioning looks, he sighed. "Last night was absolutely the worst thing I've ever been through…but I've had shocks before and you guys have never shown that much concern for my emotional health before." He looked pointedly at Casey. "And you have been stranger than usual for weeks."

Casey tensed. He looked like he was about to get up from the table and walk away.

Chuck put up his hand. "I'm not complaining." He sighed again. "It's just, you actually came over for dinner, because I asked, and not because a mission required it. You let me stay and watch a movie that night that Devon's frat brothers were at the apartment watching football. You haven't ridiculed me on more than one occasion when I left an opening so big you could drive a truck through it. And then, you…" His gaze shifted to Sarah. "Both of you, took care of me last night and brought me here."

"It's our job to protect you." Sarah said.

"I know that and…" He looked defiant. "And you have for months, but you've never taken care of me. You've always just said 'toughen up' or 'quit whining.' Granted Sarah's version is usually a lot nicer than that, but it's the same thing. 'It's a spy's life, Chuck, you're just going to have to get used it.' Why now? What changed? Or is this my last meal?"

Casey's jaw tightened at the last question. His breathing was heavy. Sarah didn't know what to say and she couldn't help but feel this was something that Casey should address. After all, he'd been the one with a pending kill order.

"I never liked Bryce Larkin," Casey finally said.

"Which would explain why you've tried to kill him a couple of times. What does Bryce have to do with this?" Chuck asked. He seemed as confused as Sarah felt.

"He got you kicked out of Stanford because he didn't think you were cut out for this life."

"That didn't stop him from throwing me into it anyway, did it?"

"No, it didn't. But, before that, he was right. You aren't cut out to be an agent."

"I've gotten better! I try and… I've helped…You've even said so."

The expression on Chuck's face was one of hurt bewilderment. Sarah glared at Casey.

He glared back. "Did you talk to Graham today?"

Sarah was surprised by this question, and a bit wary. "Yes, why?"

"Did you tell him your choice?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I told him."

Casey nodded and took a deep breath. His fists balled up in his napkin. He looked like he was trying to get himself under control. Finally, he turned to Chuck. "I can't speak for Walker," he said in a low voice, "but when I first took this assignment, I expected it to last no more than a couple of days. I was supposed to bring you in. As you know, that's not what happened. Things changed when they completed a new version of the Intersect."

Chuck's eyes widened at this statement. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Let me finish." Casey commanded. He took another deep breath. "The government has been doing some testing. They experimented giving agents access to the computer version of the Intersect while in the field. Their success rates were not as high as those of our team for various reasons. One, the computer did not have immediate visual recognition like you do; two, a picture had to be taken and transmitted, often under far from ideal conditions; three, there was a delay in requesting and receiving information on the various subjects encountered; and four, no other human tested has come close to your ability for recognition and interpretation of data."

"So what does that mean?" Chuck asked.

"It means, Chuck, that not only is the Intersect considered a national resource, but you are as well."

"And?"

"You're more precious, Chuck. More important. You and anyone you associate with are going to be watched more closely. Any sign that you might crack, that you might not be reliable in the field, and you'll be stuffed underground before you can blink. If that happens, you'll be used as a tool, nothing more. You won't be allowed contact with your family. You may not even be allowed contact with us."

"What?" Sarah asked. "Did they tell you that?"

"Come on, Walker. Think. You've been given clean up duty before."

"You think they'd kill us."

"I don't know about you, but I've certainly taken out perfectly good agents who had the misfortune of knowing too much. Sometimes clean up means eliminating all traces."

Chuck looked stunned, and slightly sick. "Wha?" He cleared his throat. "What are we doing to prevent this?"

Sarah answered. "Both Casey and I were recently asked if we were willing to stay on as your handlers, permanently."

"Or at least until the administration changes." Casey added.

"Casey, you're not helping." Sarah said.

"So, what did you say?" Chuck asked.

Sarah looked at Casey then back at Chuck. "We said yes."

"You said yes." He started to smile then seemed to change his mind. "You're staying because you might be killed if you don't."

"We don't know that. Casey was just speculating." Sarah gave Casey a challenging stare. "I'm staying because I want to; because I like it here. I like working with you."

"And what about you, Casey?" Chuck asked. "I know you don't like working with me, and I know you hate working at the Buy More."

Casey looked at him. "You're a valuable tool to the U.S. government. I won't deny that I enjoy being the one with access to that tool."

"You're staying so that you can be one up on all the other agents?"

"I'm staying," Casey said through clenched teeth, "because Bryce Larkin was right." He stood abruptly and walked away from the table.

Chuck turned to Sarah. "Again, what does Bryce have to do with this?"

Sarah took Chuck's hand and smiled. "I think what he means is that he's staying to protect you because you're a good person and he doesn't want you to get hurt or killed. He's staying because he cares about you."

"Oh," Chuck said.

"So do I," she said.

"Oh," Chuck said again and let her pull him into a hug.

What Casey had also meant, but didn't say, was that the three of them had to look after each other now, because there was no guarantee that anyone else could be trusted to do so. While they loved their country, neither of them were willing to abandon Chuck to the erratic forces that ran it. For now, keeping Chuck in the field with them was beneficial to everyone; but she and Casey had based their decision on what they knew to be best for one person, rather than what might be best for national security. They were, by definition, compromised.

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Chuck had gone off to find Casey, so she was left to clear the table. She was grateful to be alone for awhile. As she was loading the dishwasher, she thought of how much things had changed. When she first arrived in Los Angeles, she had been reeling from Bryce's betrayal and abandonment. She had been desperate to set things right—to not be the fool that she felt herself to be. When she had decided to join the CIA fresh out of college, she imagined a life of excitement, travel, glamor—all for a noble cause. Bryce, handsome and daring, had fit perfectly into that vision—which disappeared instantly the moment three agents arrived to question her about Bryce going rogue. She'd seen no trace of that vision since.

It was in this wave of disillusionment that she had met Chuck. He had been warm, open, and completely without artifice—completely different from Bryce. She couldn't help but let herself dream of the life she hadn't chosen. She would imagine the house, the kids, the dog, laughter and long walks. These new visions had helped to replace the old. Aside from hand-holding, hugs, and a few kisses, she had never let things with Chuck get very far; but when she was especially tired or disheartened, she would let her mind wander to the improbable future. Over the last several months, those wanderings had lessened. After Casey's recent revelations, she was fairly sure that they were gone for good; the improbable had become the impossible. Even if she gave up her career for this dream life with Chuck, he would never be free from danger. He would never have a normal life, so neither would she.

Then there was Major John Casey whom she had first written off as unglamorous and obsolete. After working closely with him for several months, she realized those ideas had been from the perspective of an arrogant and pretentious rookie. He easily had 15 years experience over her own and he was still alive, which was undeniable proof of his proficiency. He was diligent, efficient, and inventive—as well as condescending, hypocritical, and emotionally constipated. She didn't think she would ever want another partner—or another asset.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 4 - Chuck's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck,_ Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you Shawnny, jagged1, tshdow, and Go-Chuck-Go for your comments.

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Chuck walked onto the deck, but stopped several feet from where Casey was standing in the corner furthest from the door. He liked to keep his distance in case the agent was feeling particularly violent. Chuck couldn't see Casey's face but his posture was rigid and his hands were gripping the railing as if he was trying to crush the wood into splinters. _He could probably do it,_ Chuck thought.

"What do you want, Bartowski?"

"Hey," Chuck said. "I brought you a beer. I know you prefer scotch, but …"

Casey turned abruptly and stuck out his hand.

Chuck inched forward and cautiously stretched out his arm towards Casey until Casey grabbed the bottle out of his hand. _Like feeding the lions._ Chuck almost smiled at the thought, but smiling often made Casey suspicious so he just brought his arm back to his side, took a swig of his own beer, and waited.

Casey took a long drink but never took his eyes off of Chuck.

"Anything else?" he asked when he lowered the bottle.

Chuck braced himself. "I was hoping we could, you know, talk a little." He managed to stop himself before he started rambling. Casey didn't respond; he just kept staring. Chuck knew this tactic—stare menacingly until the irritant goes away. It had stopped working months ago.

Chuck sighed. "Look, buddy, I'm sorry if I offended you. I don't know which way is up most days and you and Sarah don't always let me in on the details."

Casey shifted his gaze to someplace behind Chuck, and walked away.

Chuck gritted his teeth. This was one of Chuck's least favorite tactics—just walk away. Chuck had learned over the months of Casey's acquaintance that following him usually led to getting hit or shoved so he went to the rail and looked out at the ocean as if that was the reason he'd come outside.

"What did you want to talk about?" Chuck turned around and was surprised to see Casey sitting in a lounge chair casually drinking his beer.

Chuck smiled and walked over. "I, uh, wanted to thank you," he said after sitting in the chair next to Casey.

"For what?"

"For…well, I know that sometimes I get all wrapped up in how much I don't want any of this that I forget how much you and Sarah do to insure that I can keep the things that matter most to me."

"It's what's best for the mission." Casey grumbled.

"Well, still, thanks." Chuck was tempted to roll his eyes. _Why did Casey make everything, like everyday pleasantries, so…. unpleasant._ They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their beers. Chuck listened to the waves. In spite of the circumstances, he was glad they had brought him here. He was pretty sure that the last time he'd been to the beach just to be there had been the night he and Sarah had gone on their first date. That had also been the night he'd met Casey, diffused his first bomb, and found out that his instincts about Sarah had been right—she was way too beautiful and sexy to want anything to do with him that actually had to do with him. _Not that way, Chuck, you've been down that road. New thought. New thought._

"What was her name?" Chuck asked. _Okay, not a cheery subject._

"Who's name?"

"You know, the agent that…uh, the one that was shot."

"Oh," Casey said. "Agent Marsters."

"Did she have a first name?"

"Probably, but I didn't know it."

Chuck looked at Casey. "What?" Casey asked. "She'd only been on my team a couple of times before. We didn't get around to chatting."

Chuck sighed. He didn't think that he would ever get used to this world. "I'd like to send her family a card or flowers or something."

Casey nodded. "I'll make sure they get there."

"Okay, okay, good. I appreciate that." Chuck leaned back in his chair.

"She was doing her job, Chuck. She did it well."

Chuck let this sink in. He sipped his beer to try and push back the desperation he felt rise in his throat. "You… you and Sarah, you do your jobs. You do them well."

"What are you getting at?"

"I couldn't stand it if either of you died for me."

"We'd be dying in service to this country. Stop thinking this is all about you."

Chuck felt chastised, as he so often did with Casey. And angry. "Fine, just forget it." He got up to go inside. He'd only made it a few steps when Casey grabbed his arm and turned him around so that they were face to face.

"What?" Chuck bit out.

Casey took a slow, deep breath. "You do a lot."

"What?" Chuck said again with more confusion than irritation.

Casey maintained eye contact and spoke slowly. "You help. You bring a lot to this team. It's one of the reasons I chose to stay."

"Really?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

Chuck couldn't help himself, he threw his arms around Casey.

Casey stood still with his arms at his sides—not returning the embrace but definitely not pushing him away.

"Are you done?" Casey asked after several seconds.

"Oh, uh, yeah…I don't know what got into me." Chuck released him and stepped back.

"Don't let it get into you again."

"I won't. I won't. You don't have to worry about that." Chuck could not stop smiling. Casey couldn't fool him. If Casey had wanted to stop Chuck from hugging him, there was no doubt that he could have. "Do you want to come in? I was going to see what movies might be on and I think Sarah got ice cream."

Casey looked back and scanned the horizon. A few remnants of color lingered in the sky from the setting sun. "Yeah, okay," he replied and followed Chuck inside.

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Chuck walked into the kitchen where Sarah was washing a pot in the sink. "There's a dishwasher, you know."

"Yes, I know, I put all of your dirty dishes in it. And Casey's. This pot took up too much space so I decided to wash it by hand."

"I'm sorry I didn't help. You could have left them."

"It's alright, I didn't mind. You'll have plenty more chances for kitchen duty." Sarah dried the pot and put it in one of the cabinets under the counter. "Did you and Casey sort things out?"

"Huh?" Chuck pulled his head out of the freezer along with a gallon of ice cream.

"I asked if you sorted things with Casey."

"Oh, yeah, well he let me hug him and didn't throw me off the deck." Chuck gave Sarah a confused look. "Don't tell me you only got vanilla."

"What? No." Sarah went to the freezer. "There's rocky road, and chocolate syrup, and strawberries as well."

"Oh, ho, ho…that's more like it." Chuck took the items from Sarah as she pulled them out of the refrigerator. "Do you want some? I'm a mean ice cream scooper."

Sarah laughed. "I bet you are. I'll have vanilla with strawberries and syrup."

"What do think Casey wants?"

"Maybe you should surprise him?"

"Ahh, do you think that's a good idea? I have a feeling Casey just shoots surprises." Chuck was rummaging around in one of the drawers. _Soup ladle, knife sharpener, potato masher, cheese grater. Urgh!_ He shut the drawer. "You know what, I'll ask him. Since you know where everything is, you can find an ice cream scoop and start cutting up the berries."

"Bossy."

"That's right. You're in my territory now. If there was a car in this kitchen, you'd be staying in it."

"That didn't make a lot of sense, you know." She pulled an ice cream scoop out of the drawer closest to her with a flourish. "And even in your territory, I've still got the moves."

He lifted his chin and turned to leave the kitchen. "I'm on a mission."

When he came back in, Sarah was calmly cutting up strawberries on a small chopping board. Three bowls and three spoons were set on the counter and all of the ingredients were lined up in a row. "Well?" she said.

"He told me to surprise him." Chuck shook his head. "Can you believe that? I think he's just trying to intimidate me." Chuck dropped a large scoop of rocky road into a bowl. "I'll show him dangerous. His super spy taste buds won't know what hit them." He added a scoop of vanilla ice cream, arranged strawberries around the two mounds, then held the chocolate syrup container over the bowl. As the perfect dark liquid swirled gracefully over the strawberries and spiraled atop the ice cream scoops, he smiled.

"Isn't that enough syrup?" Sarah asked.

"Almost, almost." He held the bottle firmly and turned his head to look at Sarah. "Did we get any cereal?"

Sarah opened the cabinet next to his head and took out a box. "Are you having cereal now instead?"

"What? No…" Chuck looked at the box and sighed. "Fruit & Nut Cluster Oatee-O's? It will have to do."

"If all that is for Casey, what are you going to have?"

"The same thing."

"Then give me the chocolate syrup before you use it all up."

Chuck finished sprinkling the cereal into the bowl and then put one lone strawberry at the very top. "Okay, I'm going in. Back me up if you hear screaming."

"Good luck."

When Chuck returned to the kitchen about thirty seconds later, Sarah was leaning against the counter eating daintily from a bowl of vanilla ice cream covered in strawberries and a light drizzling of chocolate. "That was fast," she said.

"He barely even looked at it, he just smelled it and started eating."

"That was it?"

"I know, all that work for nothing. I don't know if I'm disappointed or impressed." Chuck started making a new concoction for himself. "I wonder if Casey ever played _Mystery Crisper_, I bet he'd be good at it."

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Agent Marsters was lying on top of him. Her upper back was pressed against his face; her shirt was in his mouth and covering his nose. He tried to push her off, but couldn't get any leverage from the bodies underneath him. He tried to scream, but her weight and clothing muffled the sound. Panic rose in his chest. He was suffocating.

Chuck woke gasping for air. He put his hand over his mouth to keep himself from actually screaming. _Deep breaths. Where am I? Santa Barbara, beach house, master bedroom_—_alone. _Sarah had gone to sleep in the smaller bedroom and Casey was on the convertible couch in the main room. He sat up slowly and leaned against the headboard. His eyes roamed around the bedroom, trying to focus on different items, as they adjusted to the dark.

Earlier in the evening, he'd sat on the couch between Casey and Sarah, eating ice cream, watching parts of various movies, and making fun of TV spy shows. They'd had fun—or at least he had. It had been a while since he'd just relaxed and it had been since never that he'd relaxed with both his handlers. He liked the idea of them all getting along rather than just tolerating each other. But then Sarah asked Casey if they should sleep in shifts and Casey had replied that he had two agents stationed on the perimeter of the property and that they would be there through the night. "Good," Sarah had said and gone to bed. Chuck's good mood left as well. For a couple of hours he had allowed himself to believe that they were all together because they wanted to be, but this was really just another mission—the make sure Chuck doesn't fall to pieces mission with ice cream on top. Chuck went to bed shortly thereafter, feeling trapped and helpless.

Images of the night before and other nights before crowded into his brain. He felt restless and scared. He wanted to call out, but the little pride he had left held his tongue. Finally, he got up and went to the bathroom. When he was done, he went out into the hallway and paused, listening. The house was quiet. He didn't want to wake anyone, but he definitely didn't want to be alone. Just inside the main room, he sat down with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up. His eyes settled on the large form on the sofa-bed. The sight calmed him. The rhythm of his breathing slowed to match Casey's; the sick fear he'd had upon waking began to subside.

"Get in."

Chuck started at the sudden sound, then stood up and walked over. "What?" he whispered.

Casey turned over onto his back and looked at Chuck. "Get in," he commanded.

Chuck didn't argue and he didn't want to. He crawled under the covers and lay on his back about a foot from Casey. The bed seemed to be no larger than a double. "I'm sorry if I woke you, I tried to be quiet."

"Raccoons are quieter. Why didn't you go loiter in Walker's room?"

"I didn't want her to think I was a creep, just sitting there watching her."

Casey grunted. "But it's alright if I think you're a creep."

"Well, um…don't you already?"

"No, just a run-of-the-mill moron." Casey turned onto his side, away from Chuck. "Stay on your side of the bed."

"Absolutely," Chuck mumbled and settled into an untroubled sleep.

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When Chuck woke, his hand was clutched in the front of Casey's shirt. He gently loosened his grip and hoped that he would be able to disengage without waking Casey.

"Is there a reason why you do that?"

"I, uh…" Chuck let go and moved so that he could look into Casey's face. He knew that he was blushing. "I don't know. When I was a kid I sometimes…"

"I'm not a teddy bear."

"I know, I know, just a sugar bear." Chuck's eyes went wide. He had not intended those words to come out of his mouth. He scrambled away, but Casey latched onto his arm with an iron grip.

"I told you…"

"I didn't realize that we were having another slumber party," Sarah's voice cut in. Casey let go of Chuck's arm and they both sat up. Chuck took the interruption as an opportunity to slip out of bed.

"We weren't! I was just getting up and…" He was now standing in his boxer shorts and t-shirt between the sofa-bed with a glaring Casey and the entryway to the kitchen with a suspicious looking Sarah.

Sarah moved slowly into the room with her hand stretched out. "Are you okay, Chuck?

"Yeah, yeah, I'm…"

"He's fine, Agent Walker, he just had a little trouble sleeping." When Chuck looked again at Casey, he could see no anger in his features, just what? _Patience, concern, mild amusement?_ Chuck couldn't tell. Nothing that Casey had said the night before really explained his change in attitude toward Chuck; although, the timeframe seemed to correspond with the arrival of the beta intersect. _What was he missing?_

"You…" Chuck stared at Casey. "You were supposed to kill me."

"What?" Casey said and stood up, his fists were clenched. The wrinkled pajamas did nothing to diminish his intimidating presence.

Chuck tensed but stood his ground. He felt Sarah take hold of his arm, probably ready to restrain him if necessary. "Your orders," Chuck continued, "were to kill me when the beta intersect was finished." The deadly silence was all the confirmation Chuck needed. "When they found out they might have more of a use for me than just the contents of my brain, they changed the order. That's why you're different."

Sarah's grip on Chuck tightened and he turned to look at her. Her expression was pleading—_please understand, please don't freak out._ He brushed his fingers over her hand. She let go with some hesitation.

"You couldn't get too close." It wasn't a question. Chuck knew this was it.

"I would have done it."

"I know, buddy," Chuck said softly. "I get that. You do your job. No one would ever expect otherwise."

"It's why I wanted you in a CIA bunker. In there, I wouldn't have been able to get to you."

All of sudden, the big, hulking, scary agent seemed so easy to read, almost predictable. Casey cared about things and people and ideas, but by necessity he placed them in an unyielding hierarchy and his devotion to his job was at the very top. Nothing trumped it. Chuck figured that he himself must be pretty high up there for Casey to be hoping for a way to get around a direct order. The realization warmed him.

"I'm a…I'm gonna go take a shower unless one of you wants to go first." He looked at his handlers.

"Oh, I can wait." Sarah said. "I'll put on coffee." She headed for the kitchen.

Chuck and Casey stared at each other.

"Are we good?" Chuck asked.

Casey gave one abrupt nod and turned away. "Don't use all the hot water."

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Chuck made omelets for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. In between meals, he and Sarah walked on the beach and picked up shells—evidence to support their cover, of course. Casey joined them for meals, but kept mostly to himself. They talked little and when they did it tended to be about whatever was happening at the time: shells, cheese, sunset. It used to bother Chuck that he spent so much time with people that he knew nothing about. Eventually, he realized that he knew everything he needed to know about Sarah and Casey just by being in their presence and watching them work.

They came together that night over TV dinners and television. After teeth-brushing and clothes-changing, Casey commanded them into the master bedroom. The bed wasn't nearly as large as Casey's, but it would fit the three of them. Chuck and Sarah lay facing each other while Casey showered.

"Casey seems to like ordering people into bed. Do you think that was something he and Ilsa were into?" Chuck waggled his eyebrows at Sarah.

"I do not want to think about that. Don't let him hear you mention Ilsa."

Chuck lifted himself up and glanced at the bathroom door. "Don't worry, I've already made that mistake once today." He settled back down and looked at Sarah. "You know, I'm pretty sure that I love you."

Sarah stilled. "Chuck…don't…please."

"No, just listen. I know, okay, I know. I finally, finally get that I'm not going to have a regular kind of life. I will never get to do what the other kids do, I'll never have what Ellie has, or even Morgan. But neither will you and neither will Casey. You chose that. I didn't, but…I'm through feeling sorry for myself about what I don't get to do. I mean look at what I do get to do." He made a gesture with his hand that included Sarah, and the bed, and the bathroom, and the house, and the Pacific ocean.

Sarah giggled.

"What? Okay, I admit that when I would think of being in bed with you, Casey was never in the picture. And we were usually doing more than just sleeping, but I don't care. I mean sex is nice and I wouldn't mind…"

"Chuck…"

"Sorry, sorry, what I mean is that I'm going to do the things that I can do and enjoy them. And I want to tell you that I love you, because I do, and I am fine, great even, with whatever that means, because it means some pretty amazing stuff." Chuck moved to lie on his back and started laughing. "Of course, at this point, I'm pretty sure I love Casey too."

Sarah slapped his arm and laughed with him.

"But, I would never actually tell him that …" Chuck was interrupted by the bathroom door opening.

Casey came out in his black pajamas. He paused at the foot of the bed and looked between them. "Is there a problem?"

"What? No," Sarah said. Her face was perfectly calm.

Casey grunted and went over to his side of the bed. "I'm turning out the light."

"Yeah, good, we're ready." Chuck answered. He could feel Sarah shaking with silent laughter beside him.

Once Casey was in the bed, he leaned his face close to Chuck's ear. "No nightmares, Bartowski," he growled.

"No nightmares." Chuck answered obediently. He hoped the nightmares would be just as compliant.

Chuck's thoughts returned to what he'd been trying to tell Sarah. The moment on that rooftop almost a year ago, when Sarah had aimed a gun at his head, had brought many aspects of his existence into a very sharp focus—primarily, the love he had for his sister and his friends and his life. That once disorienting Jell-O™ wobble suddenly shifted to a gut-wrenching, hair-raising spin that hadn't stopped since and the only scenarios he could envision where that might change involved him being incarcerated or dead. He really didn't want either of those things, but he was pretty tired of feeling jerked around.

What had become clear to Chuck in the last 48 hours was that he had to stop resisting the spin. He was going to enjoy this new and crazy universe the best that he could between the death threats and disturbing realizations about human nature. There was, without a doubt, beauty and joy here, and sometimes, there was comfort and pleasure in other people's company. He would embrace these things as they came; and he would be grateful to those that brought them.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 5 - Casey's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck_, Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you jagged1, tshdow, Go-Chuck-Go, and vandevere for your comments.

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"Good Morning, Major Casey."

"Barnes." Casey acknowledged the agent he'd stationed on night duty. "Anything I should know about?"

"No, sir. All quiet."

Casey nodded. "There will be one more night. Shouldn't be more than that."

"Yes, sir, Wilkins and I will be here unless you tell us otherwise."

"You're dismissed." Casey said and watched the man walk off. Barnes was one of his best. He was always Casey's first pick for an assignment. _Prompt, intelligent, doesn't ask unnecessary questions_—the latter being a quality he wished Chuck would acquire, but after almost a year of working together, he didn't have much hope.

Casey went into the house. He was going to put on coffee, but found Sarah doing just that when he walked into the kitchen.

"I hope you're making it strong."

She raised her eyebrows and added two more scoops of grounds. "Did you sleep okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, since Chuck didn't have any fits, I slept fine."

She nodded. "Me too. He seems better."

"He wasn't latched onto my shirt this morning. I take that as a good sign."

"Don't tease him. He's already embarrassed."

"You take away all my fun."

"If your idea of fun wasn't kicking puppies, I wouldn't have to."

"If you weren't inclined to spoil puppies, they wouldn't need kicking."

Sarah smiled up at him. "Thank you for bringing us here. It's helped."

"Don't get too comfortable. We're leaving tomorrow."

Sarah just smiled wider and took two coffee mugs out of the cabinet. "What did you do about the surveillance? Anything?"

"I sent the feed to the local office, asked them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious." he replied.

Sarah nodded. "Chuck and I were thinking of going for a hike in the mountains today, do you want to go?"

_Not really,_ he thought. Hiking wasn't really his thing, but he'd spent most of yesterday by himself and he was starting to get a little stir crazy. "Do you think having to watch where he's going will keep Chuck from talking so much?"

"We could always put a muzzle on him."

"We could always leave him in the car." They both laughed.

"Leave who in the car?" Chuck stood in the entryway to the kitchen looking disheveled and barely conscious. Sarah put her hand over her mouth and turned to pick up the coffee pot.

Casey grinned. "Who do you think?"

Chuck's face fell. "Did something happen? Are we leaving?"

Sarah gave Casey a disapproving glance. "No, not until tomorrow. Do you want coffee, Chuck?"

"Please," Chuck answered and sat heavily on a stool on the other side of the counter. Sarah poured coffee into three mugs, handed one to Casey, then poured milk into the other two, and handed one to Chuck. Chuck smiled at her, then stopped, and narrowed his eyes. "Why were you two laughing?"

"What? We were just talking. I was asking Casey if he wanted to go hiking with us today." Casey wondered if the diversion would work.

Chuck's eyes brightened. "Are you?" _Yep, it worked. _"You should come. You didn't do anything yesterday." Casey was touched that Chuck and Sarah would want him along, and slightly disturbed, and disturbed that he was touched. _Whatever._

"I did a hell of a lot more than you. I went over reports, cleaned a couple of guns; not to mention, did damage control in the kitchen after you dismantled it making sandwiches…"

"Okay, I stand corrected." Chuck broke in. "You didn't do anything _fun_ yesterday."

"Let me see, I don't really need to add to my shell collection. Would you have preferred it if I'd been holding hands and skipping in the waves with you and Walker?"

Chuck blushed. "Well, no, but…"

"But what? You think I don't…"

"That's enough," Sarah interrupted. "What do you guys want for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," they said at the same time. Chuck beamed a smile at him. Casey took his coffee and went out to the deck. _It's too early in the morning to be getting along with others._ It had only been a couple of days since he'd told General Beckman that he'd be staying; he wondered how often he'd be second guessing that decision.

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"Okay," Sarah said as she put her napkin on the table. "The two of you can clean up."

Casey was mopping up syrup on his plate with the last of his pancakes. "You mean Chuck can. He hasn't done any dishes since we've been here."

"And you," Chuck said, "haven't done any cooking."

"He's right," Sarah added. "And I have done both."

Negotiation and compromise were fine as ideals, but they were just irritating if you wanted things to get done—and other people to do them. "Fine," Casey said when he'd swallowed his last bite. "You clear the table, Chuck. I'll load the dishwasher."

Chuck looked like he was about to protest when a jaunty tune interjected, "Come and knock on our door…we've been waiting for you…" Chuck took the phone out of his pocket and gave Casey a smug look as he walked away from the table. "Hey, Ellie, what's up?"

Casey got up from the table and started stacking the plates. Sarah picked up the butter and syrup and followed him into the kitchen. "Do you two always have to bicker?" she asked quietly.

Casey put the plates on the counter and opened the dishwasher. "Only when he's annoying, which is pretty much all the time."

"I'd rather he was talking. It wasn't right when he was so quiet."

Casey knew what she meant; it had been disturbing. If Chuck could only learn to be quiet when he wasn't in shock. When Chuck talked, Casey felt compelled to talk back, which led to a whole vicious cycle of talking. Unfortunately, Casey had tried not reacting to Chuck's prattle, but then Chuck only talked more to fill the void. Duct tape worked well, but only if Chuck's hands were bound.

"You know, he only talks a lot when he's nervous or scared." Sarah gave him a pointed look. "Maybe if you didn't bully him so much…"

Casey scoffed. "Maybe if you didn't keep him so flustered with your cleavage and pearly whites."

Sarah put her hands on her hips. "I just mean that sometimes you could be a little gentler."

"I'm not going to coddle him, Walker. He gets enough of that from you. Besides, he's not scared of me. It would make my job a hell of a lot easier if—"

Chuck's voice carried around the corner from the main room. "Just please, Ellie, do not meet him. You have to trust me on this."

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They stopped what they were doing and moved around the counter until they were in visual range of Chuck, who was pacing beside the couch. Suddenly, Chuck stopped and his face went blank. He was obviously having a flash. When it was over, his eyes focused on Sarah. "Ellie," Chuck spoke in a surprisingly calm voice. "Ellie, let me call you right back. Please don't do anything until I call you back." He paused for a moment and hung up. "We have to go," he said and walked towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

"Get back here, Chuck!" Casey barked, but Chuck kept walking.

"Chuck? What happened? What did you see?" Sarah called as they followed him down the hallway. When they got to the master bedroom, Chuck was already stripping off the pajama pants that he'd put over his boxers. "Chuck!" Sarah reached out and grabbed his arm while he was trying to untangle the pants from his foot. They toppled onto the bed. Sarah took the advantage and held him down. "You have to tell us what happened!"

Chuck started struggling. "We have to… Ellie is…"

"Chuck!" Sarah commanded. "Tell us."

"The…the doctor from the party, Dr. Carson, the one with the bodies—how we got to that…that place, with the bodies. He's been asking Ellie about me. He said we had a nice talk at the party and that he wanted to talk to me some more and Ellie wanted to know what we'd talked about, because she barely knew him, he was only at the party because he was a friend of a friend, and—"

"Chuck!" Sarah repeated. Casey could tell that Sarah's grip had tightened on Chuck's wrists and her knees were pressing into his sides. Apparently, Casey wasn't the only one whose patience was limited. "Chuck, please slow down. Is Ellie in trouble? What did you flash on?"

Chuck's breathing was ragged. "He invited her out to lunch, asked her to bring me. She told him that I was out of town, but he wanted her to go anyway. When…the restaurant he wanted to meet at…Pollo Amarillo—the owner has been connected with various international smuggling operations…the restaurant's a front. We have to… go…we have to go. He knows where she lives…Oh my god, I have to call Ellie back…What should I tell her?" He started to struggle again. "Sarah, get off of me!"

Sarah didn't loosen her grip, but her voice was gentle. "Chuck, please calm down. We will deal with this, as soon as you calm down."

Chuck took several deep breaths. "Okay, okay…"

"Bartowski," Casey drew Chuck's attention. "It was the name of the restaurant that you flashed on?"

Chuck nodded.

"Was there anything else?"

"No."

Casey pulled out his phone. "Get him dressed, Walker. I'm going to find out if they got anything off the surveillance and talk to General Beckman." Casey walked out of the room and dialed. He felt the rush of anticipation that came with the possibility of action. He liked it. Unfortunately, he also felt concern for Chuck, which he didn't like. Casey had wanted to tell Chuck to get up and pull it together, but the distress on Chuck's face reminded him of why they were there in the first place. He hoped that a day and two nights was enough of a break to keep Chuck operational through whatever was coming; apparently, it was all they were going to get.

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Ten minutes later, Casey was sitting on the couch with a stack of folders laid out on the coffee table. Sarah and Chuck walked in fully clothed and carrying their bags.

Casey looked up. "Ellie usually leaves for work around five in the morning. Wasn't Devon supposed to go to a conference?"

"Uh, yeah, how did you know?" Chuck sat down beside Casey.

Casey gave him an exasperated look. "How do you think?

"Oh, yeah, right, spy…I'm pretty sure Devon left yesterday for San Diego. He should be gone for three or four days."

"So, Ellie should get off work around one this afternoon? Is that when Dr. Carson wanted to take her to lunch?"

"I think so. I have to call her. It's already 9:45."

"We're getting to that." He handed his cell phone to Sarah. "It seems the same brand of feebleminded losers that work at the Buy More also sort surveillance at the L.A. office. They caught this guy on video, but didn't seem to think it was a reason to call. It's from about eight o'clock this morning."

"An exterminator!" Sarah exclaimed. "That's the oldest trick in the book. He obviously sees the camera, but then he knocks on the door and leaves. Do you think he was just taking stock?"

"Look again, he rests his hand on the door frame. Ten to one, he placed a bug or a sensor of some sort."

"Wait, what? At my house?!"

"Relax, Chuck, I talked to Beckman. We're sending two agents to the apartment and two to the hospital. It would be best, though, if Ellie didn't go home alone."

"What should I tell her?" Chuck asked again.

"Sarah's going to call her."

"What, why?"

"Because Dr. Carson hit on her at that party."

"He did?" Chuck turned to Sarah. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's for the cover, Chuck. He didn't really, but it will be an explanation Ellie will understand about why you don't want her to meet him." Sarah handed Casey his phone and took out her own. "Should I say that Chuck and I are coming back and that we'll pick her up at the hospital?"

"Yeah, that's good. You can get her on the way in. Maybe take her to get something to eat, far away from the Pollo Amarillo." Sarah nodded and went out onto the deck so that Ellie wouldn't be able to hear the two men talking in the background.

"What do you think they were planning?" Chuck asked.

"We aren't sure, but somebody, somehow, connected you to the industrial park raid. They had cameras; the video must have been routed elsewhere. Carson obviously saw it at some point and recognized you. I'm guessing their plan was to capture you and find out what you knew. Without you, they were probably intending to hold Ellie and use her as leverage."

"Why isn't Dr. Carson in custody? He's the one I flashed on to begin with."

"Unfortunately, a secret flash from a secret government asset isn't exactly usable in court. There wasn't any other evidence to connect him to that place and he'd already been acquitted on the cadaver smuggling charge. There wasn't enough evidence then, either. He must be pretty deeply involved though."

"Was it Dr. Carson who was posing as an exterminator?"

"No." Casey set the video to play on his cell phone and held it out in front of Chuck. "Take a look. Do you know this guy?" Chuck immediately flashed.

"Not the guy, but the logo on his jacket."

Casey looked more closely at the image of a cockroach with a dagger sticking out of it. "What's the connection with the meat market from the other night?"

"There are more…there are at least three more of those places in California. One in L.A. There are several companies that are connected to the smuggling ring. They all have a role in collecting information, subjects, contacts. Pollo Amarillo is one and this extermination business is another. There's also a pawn shop, a beauty parlor, two import/export businesses, and a homeless shelter with a free clinic—and that's just in Los Angeles. And it's not only dead people they're smuggling, it's live ones as well." Chuck's voice was shaky and his skin had turned pale and clammy.

"Are you going to be sick?" Casey asked.

"I don't think…yes." Chuck put his hand over his mouth. Casey hauled him up and dragged him to the half-bath in the hallway. Chuck vomited in the sink.

"You couldn't make it to the toilet?"

"Obviously not," Chuck said between spitting and rinsing his mouth out with water. He started cleaning out the sink. "Is there a plan? I don't want Ellie anywhere near those people."

Casey was always impressed, even when it was a hindrance, with how readily Chuck would put the people he cared about first. "She'll be safe, Chuck. I'm hoping we can keep you both out of this."

Chuck was leaning heavily on the counter and trembling, but the look he gave Casey in the mirror was determined. "I can do whatever you need me to do."

Casey held Chuck's gaze. "I need you to give us all the information that you can about those businesses, and then I need you to clean yourself up so that you look to Ellie like her brother who just came back from a pleasure trip with his girlfriend."

Chuck nodded. "I can do that."

"Good." Casey put his hand on Chuck's shoulder, led him out of the bathroom, and steered him to the couch. He pulled a pad of paper and pencil out of his briefcase, and handed them to Chuck.

Sarah walked in and looked at them both. "What's the matter, Chuck? You look terrible."

"I lost your pancakes," Chuck said.

Sarah looked confused, but Casey herded her into the kitchen before she could start fussing over Chuck like she always did. He took in the sight of the open dishwasher and the aftermath of breakfast on the counter. It seemed like hours ago that he'd been arguing with Chuck about dishes. They didn't have to worry about them now; he'd have a couple of rookies come in and clean up.

"What happened?" Sarah asked. "I leave him with you for five minutes and—"

"I didn't do anything, Walker. Just listen." Casey told her about Chuck's flash and subsequent bathroom visit. She told him about her conversation with Ellie. Then they each called their superiors.

"So, I'll be with Chuck and Ellie." Sarah said.

"Beckman is going to contact the local police and the FBI. Teams will be set up all over the state. Depending upon the amount of information Chuck gives us, there will probably be a series of raids. But first, I'm going after Dr. Carson at the Pollo Amarillo."

Sarah looked hard at him. "You won't be going in alone."

"I'll have a several agents backing me up. It should be a straightforward catch."

"I don't like you going in without me. I'm your partner."

"Yeah, you are. And Chuck's our asset." He wanted to reach out and touch her—connect in some way; instead, he put his hands behind his back and stood up straighter. "Stay with him as much as possible, even at night. Once I get Carson, I'm going to have to help organize the other teams. I might be gone for four or five days."

"I thought you didn't trust our ability to control ourselves."

"I trust you," he said and was surprised to realize that he meant it, for the most part. "Besides, I'm going to listen to the surveillance tapes when I get back."

"You are such a perv." Sarah smiled briefly before her face grew serious again. "John, I want you to call us when you get the chance, every night, at least."

"Keeping tabs on me, Agent Walker?"

"Absolutely, Agent Casey."

When they returned to the main room, Chuck was up and pacing. He had changed his shirt and looked fairly presentable; his demeanor was agitated, but not hysterical. "That's everything," he said and handed a piece of paper to Casey that was covered in handwriting. "Are we leaving? Ellie gets off in two hours and there's always traffic."

"You're going with Sarah."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to take care of this." Casey waved the paper. "And Carson."

"Don't you need us?"

_Yes,_ he thought, _without a doubt. Both of you._ "I'll let you know. For now, we've all got our orders. Walker will brief you in the car."

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Note: The song on Chuck's phone is the theme from the American sitcom, _Three's Company,_ which was on the air from 1977 to 1984.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 6 - Sarah's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Possible pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck_, Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you jagged1, tshdow, Stormwolf, Canadian Chucky, jane0904, Go-Chuck-Go, and allatsea1 for your reviews.

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Sarah concentrated on the road; she was driving well over the speed limit.

"So, we're going to pick up Ellie?" Chuck asked.

"Yes."

"And how do we know that Dr. Carson isn't going to nab her before we get there?"

"Because there are two agents stationed at the hospital right now watching out for her. Dr. Carson actually hasn't been seen at the hospital today. He made the date with Ellie yesterday. Supposedly he's been filling in for another doctor who's on vacation; he doesn't usually work at that hospital. Of course, we think he's been there specifically to make contact with Ellie and to find out about you."

"How is Casey going to get him?"

"I told Ellie not to cancel the lunch date with Carson at Pollo Amarillo; Casey and several other agents will meet him there instead."

"I'm surprised Ellie agreed to that—standing someone up without calling is one of her biggest pet peeves—right after leaving the toilet seat up."

"Well, I said that after Carson hit on me at the party, I had a friend of mine in the police department check up on him, and was told he had been accused, but acquitted, of sexual assault. I told her that I thought he was dangerous, she should keep her contact with him to a minimum, and that I would have my friend meet up with him in her place to give him a little warning."

Chuck moved the seat back to make more room for his legs. "You know, you're a really good liar."

"That's actually a nice compliment for a spy."

"Oh, I totally meant it that way. I'm glad that you and Casey are good at your jobs. I'm pretty sure that's why I'm still alive." Chuck opened and closed the glove compartment a couple of times. "Although, I'm not sure if Casey's much of a liar. It's like he can't be bothered to lie to people, he just shoves them out of his way." He pulled the lever to the side of his seat in order to recline, then rested his head back. "He's not a very good bartender, either. He never gives me what I ask for."

"Are you alright? You keep fidgeting with things." Sarah knew that he must be worried about Ellie, but his anxiety was exacerbating her own.

"Huh? Yeah, I was just getting comfortable." Chuck raised his seat a little bit, then pulled on the strap of his seat belt.

"Could you please stop? It's very distracting."

"Sorry." Chuck clenched his hands together and put them in his lap.

"It's okay." Sarah refocused her attention on driving and tried not to think about all the things that could go wrong. Timing was critical. They had to get Ellie without being noticed by anyone who could alert Dr. Carson. Unfortunately they didn't know who might be working with him. Which was another reason she was nervous. They didn't know how many people might know about Chuck and Ellie and where they lived and worked. Not to mention, that if Carson found out beforehand that Ellie wasn't going to meet him, Casey could… _Casey can take care of himself. Don't think. Focus. Stay alert._

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"So, you didn't make it to any of the wineries?" Ellie asked.

"Uh, no, we were just having such a great time at the beach house. Lounging, walking on the beach…" Chuck took the last fried calamari they'd ordered as an appetizer and crammed it into his mouth.

"Beach house, huh? I'm impressed, little brother. That's very romantic. I'm amazed that you were able to get a place on such short notice."

"Oh, well, you know. I've got connections."

Ellie raised her eyebrows. "Since when?"

"Well, since…"

"Since he met me," Sarah said. "The house belongs to a friend of mine in D.C. It's usually rented out, but she had a sudden cancellation and offered it to us."

"You are well connected. First a friend in the police department and now a friend with a beach house in Santa Barbara." Ellie looked over at Chuck. "Definitely a keeper."

"Oh, absolutely, a keeper." Chuck smiled indulgently at his sister, then turned to Sarah. He kept smiling, but his eyes showed the mild panic they always did when he was actively lying to a loved one. It continually amazed Sarah that people, no matter how close they were to someone, would only see what they wanted to see. Ellie regularly attributed Chuck's sweaty palms, odd hours, and pained expressions to being in love. Sarah didn't know whether she should be flattered or offended.

Before she could think of the perfect girlfriend response, her phone rang. It was Casey. "Oh, I have to get this. Excuse me." She got up from the table and walked outside of the Mediterranean Café they'd chosen for lunch. It was in a strip mall far away from Chuck and Ellie's apartment, the hospital, and Pollo Amarillo.

"Did you get him?"

"Yeah, got to him just as he stepped out of his car. And we got the exterminator—he was playing busboy this time—took him in the alley behind the restaurant taking out the trash. The owner wasn't around and we're hoping he wasn't alerted. We'd like to get a little more on him before we raid the whole place. What about you?"

"We picked up Ellie without any problems and we weren't followed. I had to field a lot of questions when we picked her up, but she seems to have bought the cover. We've been having lunch."

"Lucky you."

"And discussing Chuck's romantic nature."

"I take it back, I'd rather starve."

"Do you know yet if anyone else is aware of Chuck's involvement?"

"We're about to start the interrogation. It should be another couple of hours."

"Do you still have a watch on the apartment?"

"Yeah, but I'd rather they didn't go back there until we know the risk. Go shopping or see a movie—whatever you girls do."

"I'm sure we'll find something to amuse us."

"I'll call you when we know something." He hung up. Sarah sighed. Hopefully, Ellie was game for more Chuck-time. A movie seemed the best option—cool, dark, no conversation—fewer lies required.

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Sarah walked into the hallway of the multiplex cinema to answer her cell phone. It had vibrated while she was in the movie theater. "Well?"

"There's definitely someone else giving orders. The exterminator is just a lackey—does whatever is needed—usually so he can eavesdrop. Carson doesn't know much either, he's only in on the medical side. He got into it by procuring corpses, but since then, the organization has branched out to include live bodies—fresher organs, more likely for the transplants to take. Carson does surgeries—both kinds—removals and insertions, but that's only in L.A. There are probably a few others here, not to mention the many doctors involved globally. Money's big for a black market surgeon."

"Who showed him the video tape of the industrial park?"

"He claims that he received it via e-mail and then was called for information. Says that he's always contacted by phone, told where to go, and what to do, but that he rarely interacts with anyone. He gets paid the same way."

"What should I do with Chuck and Ellie? I can't drag them around all day. Have you talked to Beckman?"

"Yeah. You're going to bring them back to the apartment. There are two agents there on watch. I've got Barnes and Wilkins to double-up the nightshift. Barnes will take over video surveillance. They're instructed to call you at the first sign of trouble."

"You think they'll still come after Chuck?"

"I doubt it. Since we removed the sensor off the door frame, they'll realize the apartment is being watched. It's unlikely they'll try anything, but we don't want to take any chances."

"Where are you now?"

"On my way to Fresno. We traced the exterminator logo that Chuck flashed on. Pretty sure there's another base of operations."

"Shouldn't we come with you?"

"Not yet. You know why. If we can keep Chuck away from this, all the better. I'd rather not have a repeat of the other night, yeah?"

"Okay, but…" Sarah noticed that people were emerging from the theater that Chuck and Ellie were in. "Listen, the movie's over. Chuck and Ellie should be coming out soon."

"What did you see?"

_"Get Smart."_

"You're kidding." Casey sighed. "He's going to be insufferable."

"I know. I tried to talk them into something else, but Ellie wanted to see it too."

Sarah saw Chuck's tall, lanky form come through the doors. "Call us tonight." She put her phone away and walked briskly towards the siblings.

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Sarah, Chuck, and Ellie were slumped together on the Bartowski couch. After the movie, they had gone shopping. Ellie was buying a present for Devon's father's birthday and she wanted their opinion. When they finally got back to the apartment, it was early evening. They had eaten a light supper and were now sitting in front of the muted television screen, discussing their day. "A shoe phone, Chuck, is completely impractical," Sarah said for what seemed like the tenth time.

"I'm just saying, Sarah, I think it could come in handy. An agent has to rush off on a mission, but, oh no, they forgot their phone. No wait, what a relief, they've got one in their shoe. Huh? Handy!"

Ellie put a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. "You two have obviously given this a lot of thought." She leaned against her brother on the couch. "I can't believe we got to spend almost the whole day together. It's been so long since we've done that."

Chuck put his arm around her shoulders. "I know. It was fun."

She kissed him on the cheek and got up from the couch. "I'm going to call Devon and then head to bed. Early day tomorrow. Thank you, both of you, for a great day."

"Goodnight, Ellie," Sarah replied. They watched Ellie leave the room, then turned to face each other. Chuck's expression was happy, almost relaxed. Sarah had to look closely to see the strain and exhaustion that she knew was there. "Are you ready for bed?"

"Yeah, yeah." He immediately sat up straight. "Are we doing the cover sleep together thing?"

She nodded. "That's right."

"But, no racy nighties?! I don't think I could handle that right now."

"No racy nighties. Just pajamas like I wore in Santa Barbara."

"Oh, okay, good." Chuck stood up. "I'm ready then. It's been a crazy day."

She followed him to his bedroom. "You use the bathroom first, I'm going to check in with Barnes."

"Are we expecting anything tonight?"

"We don't know, but we want to be ready, just in case."

"What about Ellie?"

"She'll be safe Chuck. I promise."

Chuck nodded. "I'm too tired to second guess you, but you'd better be right."

After Sarah called Barnes, she slipped off her shoes and took pajamas out of her suitcase. She always had mixed feelings when spending time with the Bartowski family. There was such devotion between Chuck and Ellie. It was a beautiful thing and she often felt honored to witness it, but afterwards, she would feel an emptiness within her—a grief for something she had never had, and possibly never would.

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Once they were both settled in bed, with a generous space between them, Chuck reached over and took Sarah's hand. "Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yes, it's fine," she said.

"I don't always know what's allowed." Sarah didn't always know either, so she didn't say anything. She just gently squeezed his hand. "So," he said, "you talked to Casey a couple of times today?"

"I did. We should be hearing from him again tonight."

"Is he…do you think he's in any danger?"

"He's got a lot of other agents with him. He's coordinating with other departments around the state. They're still gathering intel."

"I'm not complaining, but why is he doing all of the heavy lifting on this one? I thought we were a team."

"We are a team, and our job was to get Ellie safely out of the way so that Carson could be caught without blowing our cover."

"I know, and we did that—and it was great, really great, to spend the day with Ellie—but shouldn't I be there helping with the intel? I mean, I've got the information superhighway running through my brain, and shouldn't you be there helping to kick the ever lurking bad guy ass?"

Sarah was silent. She had thought this too, but she'd also agreed with Casey's decision. Just two days ago, Chuck had been a wreck. How could they put him back in what might be an even worse situation so soon? "It's just…we don't want…"

"You don't want me breaking down again." There was no rancor in Chuck's voice, just resignation.

"We don't want you to have to deal with this until we're sure that you're ready."

He let go of her hand and sat up. "Ready? Sarah, I've got news for you. I am never going to be ready. Ready for what? To see how low our species can sink? To see people cut into pieces, butchered for money—people that might have been my sister or my friends or you?" He took a deep breath. "I was pretty out of it the other night, but I remember the look on your face. You can't tell me that you were ready for that either. What we saw is nothing that any of us should ever be ready for!"

She sat up and grabbed Chuck's arms, to steady him as well as herself. "Okay, Chuck, okay…"

"I needed that little trip, I did, and I appreciate so much that you and Casey would do that for me, but you can't protect me—I mean, you can and you do—but not like this." His shoulders sagged. "I come home from missions with other people's blood and brains on my clothes and I live in fear that I won't be able to keep that part of my life away from Ellie or Morgan, that I won't be able to keep them safe. The only thing that makes any of this worth it is knowing that I help, that I can help stop some of these people from messing up the world for everyone else."

Sarah put her arms around him. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"Well, no, not really." He pulled away slightly to look into her face. "I can't guarantee that I won't ever fall apart, or lose my lunch…but you guys can't keep me from the bad stuff. It's not fair to any of us. We're in this together, aren't we?"

She smiled. "You know, Casey said the same thing."

"Said what?"

"That we're in this together—all three of us."

"Well, see there, I wouldn't want to argue with the big guy."

"You argue with him all the time."

"Okay, yeah, but I think he likes it. It's the only way he can accept affection." Chuck's phone rang. He picked it up off the bedside table and looked at it. "Speak of the devil."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Chuck vs. The Middle****Chapter 7 - Chuck's POV**

Summary: Chuck's resilience in the field is tested, and Casey and Sarah have some decisions to make. Pre-Casey/Chuck/Sarah.

Disclaimer: Neither _Chuck_, Chuck's world, nor any of the characters on _Chuck_ belong to me.

Author's Note: Thank you tshdow, jagged1, ellenscult, Go-Chuck-Go, and Stormwolf for your reviews.

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Casey had been calling several times a day, sometimes to give updates, and sometimes to send files to Chuck to see if he flashed. He had, many times, and the scenario that had formed based on the information he received was a grim one.

The place in Fresno—_Dagger Extermination,_ "We Duel Pests to the Death"—had been an organizational headquarters of sorts, and from there they were able to pinpoint the three California locations including the one in L.A., where people had been brought, operated on, and shipped out in pieces. From what they could tell, people were picked up as runaways or transients from California, its neighboring states, and Mexico. In a few cases, they were kidnapped if there was a specific request for something they didn't have, like someone with a rare blood type. People whose blood or organs didn't qualify them to be dismembered might be sold alive and well to the highest bidder, if they had desirable attributes. Those who didn't were killed and discarded.

The California network had been in full swing for at least a decade, and it could all be tied through a cascade of aliases and facades to the The Mercer Corporation, an import/export company run by brothers Jared and Jason Mercer. As yet, they hadn't come across any way to positively identify either of the brothers. So, the three known operations and the fifteen related businesses had been raided and every person present had been detained. Chuck and Sarah were on their way to the NSA holding facility in Los Angeles to find out if Chuck flashed on anyone.

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As Chuck walked across the Buy More parking lot towards Sarah's car, he underwent the subtle transformation from Chuck, supervisor of the Nerd Herd, to Chuck, secret government asset: he took off his name tag, untucked his white shirt, and loosened his tie. _Who needs a telephone booth?_ he thought.

Sarah stood next to her car dressed in standard black spy attire. "Ready?" she asked.

"You have no idea." Chuck slid into the passenger seat and put on his seat belt. He and Sarah had been securing their cover for the last few days—working at their crappy jobs, sleeping in the same bed, smiling a lot. Meanwhile, he'd been edgy and worried about his other job—the equally crappy, but considerably more dangerous one—and the strain of keeping up appearances was wearing on him.

"Bad day of computer repair?" Sarah asked as she maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and into the busy street.

"No, I'm just hoping we can wrap this up and things can go back to normal."

"Normal?"

"Yeah, you know. Not having to pretend that everything is fine and dandy while Casey travels around the state sifting through body parts."

"You're worried about him."

Chuck started to adjust his seat, then remembered the last time they'd been in the car together and stayed still. "Don't tell me that you're not ready to do something besides serve frosty fruit drinks to drooling adolescents and trade recipes with my sister."

"Yes, of course I am…Not that I mind spending time with your sister…"

"I didn't used to mind."

"And you do now?"

"I don't have a switch like you and Casey seem to have. I can't just go back and forth all the time." With Devon out of town, he'd been seeing Ellie a lot more than usual, and with the rather gruesome flashes he'd been having, he'd found it increasingly difficult to be cheerful and engaged in her company.

"It's why most spies don't have families, the schism between their two lives becomes too great."

"I know, I know…" Chuck mumbled. He watched with detachment as Sarah swerved around a blue Camry and sped ahead. She'd missed the bumper by inches. _Spy driving, not to be mistaken for reckless driving._

"How do you feel about the possibility of Ellie and Devon moving out of the apartment?"

Chuck sighed. "I think it's probably best if she lives far away from me…" The truth of it made him feel sick. "I can't afford to stay in the same apartment. I hate moving, but I don't want to ask anyone else to move in; I can't risk them getting mixed up with all this stuff. Do you think the CIA would cover my living expenses?"

"What if I moved in?"

"What if? Um, I don't know. Would…would you want to do that?"

"It would be good for the cover. And it would be easier for me to protect you."

"Yeah."

"And you wouldn't have to pretend."

"I wouldn't?"

"Well, you'd have to pretend that I was your girlfriend, but you wouldn't have to pretend with me that everything was okay when it wasn't."

"Yeah." Chuck couldn't help but think that faking a relationship while living together was a potential comedy of errors, but the idea of not having to put on an act in his own home sounded like it might be worth a few awkward moments—his life was full of those anyway. "And with Casey listening to everything we do and say, it could be just like—"

Sarah exited the freeway and got onto the access road. "Are you about to use a television analogy? Because, I hardly ever get those."

"Yes, as a matter of fact I was about to use a television analogy. It was going to be a great crossover reference—corny sitcom meets ridiculous spy show—but I will keep it to myself." Sometimes, he really missed Morgan. Between the Anna thing and the spy thing, they rarely got together anymore. With snacks included, they easily could have spent an evening mixing and matching television shows.

"We're here," she said and pulled into a parking space in front of a large, dark, imposing building. It reminded him of Casey—who stepped out of the front door, took a few steps towards their car, stopped, crossed his arms, and glared.

"Look, Sarah, the NSA has a doorman."

She took off her seat belt and got out of the car. "Come on, Chuck." she said before closing the door. _Right, this is seriously-on-the-job Sarah—haven't seen her in a couple of days_.

"Took you long enough," Casey said. His eyes skimmed over them as if checking for injuries or alterations.

"We got here as soon as we could," Sarah said.

"I can vouch for that," Chuck added. "She drove at illegal speeds the entire way."

Casey opened the door and stepped back so that Chuck and Sarah could enter first. _Doorman,_ Chuck thought and smiled.

"What?" Casey grunted.

"Nothing. I'm just…I'm glad to see you." And he was—really, really glad. He was surprised at this degree of gladness.

Casey paused for a moment like he might say something, then walked off. "The interrogation room is this way," he said.

They followed him down a light gray hallway with many dark gray doors. Chuck felt reassured that his tax dollars weren't being used on frivolous decorations. "Are we going to be interrogating people?"

"The last time we let you interrogate someone, you ended up babbling incoherently on the floor of an elevator." Casey said. Okay, maybe Chuck wasn't quite as glad to see Casey as he'd thought.

"It's just called the interrogation room. It's also an observation room and is sometimes used for line-ups. It has two-way glass. That way, you'll see the suspects, but they won't see you." Sarah explained.

"Oh, that makes sense. See how easy that was, Casey. A straight answer."

"Hnh." Casey opened another door. This one led into a small room with a large window on one wall. Once they were all inside, Casey closed and locked the door, then turned to face them. It was then that Chuck could see the weariness in Casey's features.

Sarah put her hand on Casey's arm. "Are you okay?"

Casey nodded and cleared his throat. "We're going to bring 5 or 6 people in at a time. Chuck, look them over carefully. We'll have a camera on each of them so you can use the screens for close-ups." He gestured to a bank of monitors along the adjacent wall.

Chuck stepped closer to the glass. On the other side was a larger room with a table against one wall, a row of circles on the floor, and two armed guards. "How many people will there be?"

"Forty-three." Casey answered, then went up to a panel next to the glass and pushed a button. A door opened into the larger room and six people walked in, two men and four women. Then he pushed another button and spoke into a microphone. "Each person should stand on a circle and face forward."

Over the next two hours, Chuck observed and flashed while Sarah took notes and Casey gave directions to the detainees. They worked quickly and none of them said more than they had to. Chuck felt more relaxed than he had in days, better than he had since before they'd left the beach house, before he'd talked to Ellie on the phone.

Overall, Chuck flashed on eight people. Five of them had previous connections to smuggling operations, two of them were wanted for the assassination of a foreign diplomat, and one of them was Jason Mercer. Then Chuck was told to look over a table full of various objects: wallets, keys, business cards, pens—whatever had been in people's pockets when they were taken in. Nothing triggered a flash until he picked up a key ring with a tag that said J&J Self-Storage.

"I think we should go to this place," Chuck said and handed Sarah the keys.

"You flashed?"

"Yeah."

Casey looked over Sarah's shoulder. "It's in Pasadena. Do you know what's there?"

"No, I just know that it's connected to the Mercer Corporation—and that it's important."

"I'll get a team of reinforcements together," Casey said. "We'll take my car."

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An hour or so later, they pulled up next to a gated parking lot. "You didn't happen to get the access code, did you?" Casey asked.

"No, but if you pull around to the office, I think I can get us in." Chuck dangled the ring of keys that he'd flashed on.

Casey nodded and drove the Explorer around the building. _First a doorman, now a chauffeur. _Chuck felt he was in the lap of glaring, grunting luxury.

It was well past closing time for the J&J office; the place seemed deserted. After they'd parked in front of the office, Casey and Sarah turned around in their seats to look at Chuck. "What?" Chuck asked. "I am not staying in the car. You don't know what you're looking for. You need me."

"Just stay with us as best you can. And drop to the ground or get behind something if there's shooting." Sarah said.

"I know the drill." Chuck opened the back door and got out. He noticed at least three other cars parked beside them—_back-up._ Casey sent one agent to dismantle the alarm system and two more to guard the back door. The other exterior access, the loading ramp, was inaccessible behind the locked gate. When they were alerted that the alarms were off, Casey stuck his hand out to Chuck.

"I'll do the honors," Chuck said and stepped towards the door. Casey scowled but moved away.

"You can open it, but one of us goes in first." Casey stood close behind as Chuck searched for the most likely key. "Don't forget, Bartowski, you're our first mission. You're more important than anything we find here."

Chuck's heart sank at the reminder. The key slid into the lock. "I won't forget," he replied, "but you have to remember that you and Sarah are important to _me."_ He unlocked the door and turned around.

Casey stared intently at Chuck and gave him a very slight nod. Chuck knew that was all he would get; he moved out of the way and followed Casey and Sarah inside. Five agents brought up the rear. The office was quiet and undisturbed. They briefly glanced around, but found nothing of interest. There was a map next to the door that led to the storage units. It showed two floors and a maze of hallways on each. Casey directed three agents upstairs, and two to the right. He and Sarah and Chuck went to the left.

As they moved along, Chuck looked at everything—every number, every lock, every scuff mark. The doors and hallways all looked very similar. Just as Chuck was wondering if he'd brought them on a wild goose chase, one of the storage lockers ahead of them opened and four people stepped out, armed to the teeth. Chuck fell to the ground. After a brief exchange of gunfire, and the sound of running footsteps, he heard Casey say, "Go after him, I'll be right behind you."

Before Chuck could get to his feet, Casey pulled him up by his collar. "I can get up by myself if you'd ever give me the chance," Chuck complained.

"You don't do it fast enough." Casey said and shot a padlock off of the closest door. "Get that, will you?"

The lock had fallen a couple of feet away. Chuck picked it up and started to hand it to Casey, but Casey grabbed his front and shoved him into the locker. "Stay put. Stay hidden. Don't make any noise and don't come out until we come get you." Before Chuck could protest, Casey shut the door and left Chuck in the dark.

_So much for luxury, so much for holidays at the beach…_ Chuck started to feel along the wall, then remembered there was a penlight in his shirt pocket. It didn't have much range—he used it sometimes while fixing computers—but it would have to do. He turned on the light and held it out into the room. "Oh God," he whispered, "not again." Laid out in a row on the floor, were the dimly lit forms of what seemed to be human bodies.

Chuck stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Then one of the bodies moved slightly. Chuck started, dropped the light, and had to bite his hand to keep himself from screaming. After a couple of deep breaths, he knelt down and picked up the light, then crawled over to the body that had moved. He shone the light over it and then briefly over the others; they were all bound at the hands and feet and mouths with several layers of duct tape. He removed the tape from the mouth of the first body. The person coughed and opened their eyes. Chuck leaned a little closer and saw it was a teenaged boy—groggy, but very much alive.

"Hey, hey, are you with me?" Chuck whispered, not forgetting Casey's instructions, especially now that he had someone else to look out for. "I'm going to free your hands and feet, okay?" The boy nodded.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Chuck asked and helped the boy sit up.

The boy shook his head.

"What's your name?" Chuck thought he heard gunshots in the distance—okay, he knew that he heard gunshots in the distance, but he didn't want to think about it and didn't want to alarm the boy.

"Gabriel."

"Well, Gabriel, I'm going to release the others. If you rub your arms and legs, it will help get your circulation going, so you'll be able to stand."

Gabriel nodded and started rubbing his legs. Chuck worked quickly and created a large mound of duct tape. When he finished, he surveyed the small crowd of nine children who seemed to range in age from about ten to sixteen. He guessed that they'd all been drugged, given their sluggish movements and lack of chatter. Gabriel and a couple of the others had managed to stand, but the rest of them were still struggling to sit up.

Chuck was helping the youngest of the group walk around the small room when he heard footsteps out in the hallway. He hoped fervently that it was Casey or Sarah, but then he heard an unfamiliar voice yell, "you go that way." Chuck herded the children into the furthest corner and signaled them to remain quiet, then he went and stood beside the door hoping that he could catch whomever it was by surprise; after hoping, of course, that they wouldn't come in at all. He felt in his pockets and pulled out the lock that Casey had told him to pick up. The footsteps moved closer, they stopped outside the door, a curse was uttered, and the door swung open. What appeared first through the doorway was a hand with a gun.

Chuck briefly considered that it might be one of Casey's agents, but couldn't take the chance that it wasn't. He slammed the lock down on the hand. The gun fell and the owner of the hand cried out. Chuck jumped on the man and managed to knock him to the ground. They struggled for several seconds before Chuck felt other hands helping to hold the culprit down—the hands belonged to Gabriel and three of the other children.

"Get," Chuck gasped, "get some of that tape. Let's tie him up if we can. Somebody close the door." As they bound the man's arms to his sides with several layers of twisted tape, Chuck got a better look at him. He didn't need to flash to know that the man was Jared Mercer; he looked almost exactly like his brother, Jason. The man glared and made threatening sounds beneath the jumbled mass of tape they'd wrapped over his mouth.

Chuck sat on the ground to catch his breath along with the four children that had helped him. The other children stayed huddled in the corner.

"Why can't we leave?" Gabriel asked.

"It's just best if we wait for now. If no one comes for us in fifteen minutes, we'll talk options." Chuck glanced at his watch. He'd been in the storage room for almost an hour. He hoped Sarah and Casey were okay. He wasn't sure what he would do if they weren't; he couldn't even think about it. A gunshot sounded nearby, then several more, then feet running, then feet walking—there was someone in their hallway again.

Chuck stood up. "Let's drag this guy over there. Then all of you get into your corner and be quiet…please." When they moved the man, Chuck saw the gun. He picked it up carefully. He still didn't know much about guns, but enough to know that the safety was off. He pointed it at the door and tried unsuccessfully to stop shaking.

"You just left him in here?" he heard Sarah say.

"Would you rather I'd have brought him to the showdown?" Casey growled.

"Did you even check if someone was in here first?"

"It was locked from the outside, Walker. Stop fretting."

Chuck was focused on the voices of his handlers and the joy he felt at hearing them and was unprepared for the suddenness with which the door opened and the brightness of the NSA flashlight that shined in his eyes. The gun fired.

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"So, that guy you shot is one of the good guys?" Gabriel asked. He was leaning against the side of the Explorer eating a hamburger and talking to Chuck who sat in the back seat with an ice pack on his head. Food had been brought in for all the captives; in addition to the nine children that had been with Chuck, they had found twelve other people, mostly adults.

"Uh, yeah, he is definitely one of the good guys." Chuck felt embarrassed and horrified. After the gun had gone off, Chuck dropped it; then the children started screaming and Chuck started screaming; Sarah tackled Chuck to the ground and he hit his head on the concrete floor; then several other armed agents rushed into the storage unit. It took nearly twenty minutes to calm everyone down.

"Then what did you shoot him for?"

"Well, I didn't mean…I don't usually…"

"Because, he's a menace, that's why." Casey appeared next to Gabriel. "Go over to that white van, the medic wants to check you out." The entire property of the storage facility was crawling with agents and emergency vehicles. Chuck's flashes had helped them locate two more storage units with people in them, but every one was being opened and searched in case there were more.

"What about you?" Gabriel asked. "You look pretty messed up."

The right sleeve of Casey's white shirt was torn and spotted with blood. "They're checking out all the kids. Do I look like a kid?"

"Uh, no," Gabriel said and backed away. "Bye, Chuck. Thanks for everything, man." Gabriel walked briskly in the direction of the white van.

"Bye, Gabe, I hope you get home soon," Chuck called through the window. "You really have a way with children, you know that Casey? I think you'd have made a great school counselor."

"Shut up and move over." Casey slid into the back seat next to Chuck, then felt around at his feet and pulled out a first-aid kit. "There should be some antiseptic wipes in there. Pull one out and help me with this." He took off his button-down and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal a shallow laceration on his upper arm about four inches long.

Chuck winced. "God, Casey, I'm sorry."

"It's hardly more than a graze, don't worry about it."

"I shot you." Chuck said as he started to gently clean the wound.

"I noticed."

"I didn't mean to."

"That part was obvious."

Chuck retrieved antibiotic cream and a bandage from the first-aid kit.

"You're going to start firearms training this weekend." Casey said, once Chuck was finished dressing the wound.

"I am?!" Chuck exclaimed. "But—"

"Guns are a lot less dangerous if you know how to use them."

"I won't have to carry one, will I?"

"No…not yet, anyway."

"If I know how to defend myself, maybe you won't feel the need to shove me into dark places."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's a lot more to being able to defend yourself than knowing how to shoot a gun."

Chuck leaned back in the seat and resettled the ice pack on his head. "I wouldn't say no to a little defense training."

"I'll talk to Walker. We'll see what we can do." Casey leaned back as well. "We could start with an hour run every morning, then some weight training, time on the heavy bag—"

"I said a little training, not boot camp."

Casey grinned. They sat in silence for several moments before Casey spoke again. "You did good today."

"I did?"

"You got Jared Mercer and you saved twenty-one people from the chop shop or worse. Not bad for a day's work. Maybe Bryce Larkin wasn't _completely_ right."

"Maybe…I could never do this alone."

"You're right, you couldn't. But you don't have to."

Chuck looked over at Casey. "The last few days…it didn't feel right when you were gone."

"So you tried to get rid of me permanently."

"No! I didn't…That's not …I mean—"

"I know, Chuck," Casey said. "I didn't much like it either."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When they arrived at the apartment building, Chuck noticed a familiar hybrid SUV parked in front.

"That's Devon's car, isn't it?" Sarah asked as she pulled the Explorer into a parking space. "I'll bet Ellie is glad."

"Yeah, I'm sure she is." Chuck imagined the smiling, happy faces of his sister and her fiancee, giddy in their reunion. The vision filled him with both love and grief. He'd tried so hard to hang on, to keep his friends and family close, but he'd lost them anyway. He couldn't be the brother or the friend that he wanted to be—that he felt Ellie and Morgan and his other friends deserved. He sighed.

"Is something wrong?" Sarah looked at him in the rear view mirror.

"I think I just realized that this is my real life."

She took off her seat belt and turned around so that she could look at Chuck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'd always thought…" He waved his arm in the direction of his apartment. "…of Ellie and Devon and Morgan, and the Buy More, as my real life."

"Sad as that may be," Casey said. Both Chuck and Sarah glared at him.

"They're still a part of your life," Sarah said.

"I know, and I love them, but I can never be honest with them, I can never make promises…You're the only ones that really know what's going on in my life."

Chuck saw Sarah look over at Casey, who was still seated next to him in the back seat. "I can get my car in the morning," she said.

Casey nodded. "Grab those files, will you?"

Sarah turned back around, picked up the briefcase in the passenger seat, and started to get out of the car.

"Wait, what are you guys doing?" Chuck asked. "It's one o'clock in the morning, you aren't going back to work, are you?"

"We're going inside," Sarah said. "I don't particularly want to spend the night in the car."

"What about me?"

Casey gave Chuck a confused look. "What about you? You're coming too."

"Inside?"

"No, we thought _you_ could sleep in the fountain." Casey opened the door on his side. "Come on! With Devon back, I doubt that Ellie will even notice you're gone, but we'll check the audio to make sure. Hurry up. The sooner we get to bed, the better. I'm tired." He got out of the car and closed the door.

Chuck sat in the back seat alone for a moment. _To bed, Casey's amazing monster bed._ He remembered the feelings of comfort and warmth he'd had waking up between the two agents. _My real life,_ he thought. And for the first time, in a very long time, he felt possibility.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


End file.
